

\pS 





• i • * - 


A ^ - 

* A • 

4 ^y ^ **> 





*A V 


• / % <p n -• 

* c? v C&> • 

4 <jV 



vPb 


*4^ « *■ • » + *<£» 

> ( *:^'. -ft 


o v 


„ X° *7^. 

* 0 4* 

7 » A ; <** * 


^ HO ^ ' 

T C° -V£V% °0 

v o* • 4 ISk: ’"o v" 

O ^5 °<C> 
s .y o 
* . - . 0 o 


• • $ 4 > 




> , 


v .i-». 


f- % *♦' * 

s - V^ v 


y * A 

4 ,* V *V 



+jwr~ % ' xf + 4 , 



v s •‘i,*®- ^ Ap v t » lv^* "*> ” v v *y£- 

v +-&$)• *p . *■ jnnw * ^ ,\ /. v * . 5) • A it < 

• A * 

* *** l 

» '•jagi'* °« 

7.7* ' A <A '»•»* A & '' ***vvJ** <» '».> .0 

• -^t' °o j* ,>X< C° -^1'. °o j* / -'*>*- * * -° 

b V :£Mti£' *+ 6 * . 4*. .-> * 







<A 4 . V 

• o V 


$P ^ » 

^ V* 


O. *0 



ry C * 
*; *-0< * 

,° ^ \ 



C> ♦ill* 


VA 


, ° A O 

V 'V 0 



t • o 


• ^ iV* « 

; v* v - 


1 A '0'~K* A 


4 A' ^ . 



° V A 


a- . 


* V 0 


«V . I » * ^ *<$>» 

V V 0 

N Kjcfl//6s5> * y<> <; ' 

< : 
0 ^5 ^<» ” 

/ ipTKU\\\NN?> 4 \V * 

^ °0 


O. 4 A 



* ^ A /. 





0 0 . ' o 



A r , t • » 4 


* A vP. 

* <7 'Ca. • 

• »s ex 4 ^-o. v %b. -» 

<*• ^O. 'w 

^ & o » n *Pi 



t 


^ t , - -__- « ^ ,. 0 ' o V^“ 'O 


> r v- - 

/ nT> + ^ 



* A 

A V* 0^ 




l- V*’ -' 


V »1*®- o. 


®«o v 


^<P> * O N 0 


» A 

♦ <“? 

4 A v 



0 ^ A 


G v '"o. .Vs 4 A 


0 0 

* V ^ 0 



•* A A, * 
a . /- 


V «» l • °- Q, 


VjA^ 





<^J> 'o • \ * .0 


-b A ^ 

4 V 



- ^ A ♦ 


^ v . 


$ * * a . ^ ^ > 


o 

* 4 / y$> 0 




0 - O A- . 


. -^ o J- , 

* ^ A 4 

. % * " ' ’ >° 9 . • • • >vV " ” ° *y , . . ,.°V ‘ ,T ' ‘ \<f . 

0 ^ & ♦ cyfei^ * ^ av ♦^\wa. p ■& 

V - s -> ~ •- ’O./V « 


* A vP 
■» A °V> 

<V '»•*’* A 

t / « ^ o> 



A ’ 

«» ^ 4^ * 


oV 


\0 

> V w 



0 0 °.“ 0 ♦ 






9 SS v rv -• 

4 V ^ • 


A>*^> 

V 'V ^ °.'g'^>4 «. 

4 A '° • * * Jy ^ ♦ 

^ G t » 4 <^ A> 0 " 0 - 

A 0 U °o 

N 5» * « ' 

v* o 4 0 



*••' - > V »v^ O 


0 ^ Vy v 



^ <0 *■ 

• ^ A ♦ - 

: vv • 


* A ^ 

* A ^ 

4 <£, v ^ 4 * 



*° A 


o vp. A 


: „VV 




. v r <A • » 4 A> T o ^V.7 4 ' A 
«A . 1 ' * ♦ -ov o 0 " 0 ♦ ^o jA .*■'•♦ 

^ ♦Vv7^' r G •_s5$SWV o 

Q ^ o - «4A A 


«v 





v^\/’ ; . . ;\;^*y .°r v^y 



^ A 






& * # ' * aP %> 

v aO v .**VL'* *> 


dm 0 ' A 



$P * 7 ^ ^ ^O * 

* * 7 t * 1 ^ '* o * o °* ^ * •'# * * ’ A 

'• ^ ^ -*•*- %/ fM/k°*^ . 

* : -lilf‘° ^ v % WW*- -*"« * ' VA 

< y V*-* 

,0* oj^l^*, "^bj '■"'IZa, ^ .jLfo.-* _ o 

... ^ ?JWfe>' ^a .v^lV. <*. 





vX; 


b V 




*0* 

' >°’ 7 + ^°<o i 0 V ", 

y - 1 . % 5 .. V'^*' / , ./v*"’* VV- V ,i# ’ o 

%.& *MMm° °MSm r . vv ;$Mwk°, °^v 'iial^- yv . 

y\. ^1§K‘ : ** v ^ '°W9* : ( </\ '-I5*** . °*1Sf. ; y °\ 

G* r?5rf» A <. -CT V A <* ° # * a° 

. & _rS^w' <0 A Sar/r/T^" *%- C ° W *V//Z^C* V* . ° / 

# oa^mS'* ?d5mPX+ +*c$ 



» 0 ^ V 



^ • # 1 " Ay 

b *0* s!^/, O V • 

^ A* *V8©W\ ^ ^ * 

vP_ 4-7 



O • A 



o * o * 

o ^ 




. .O' ^ ** -* 

' ' * °* c\. 

c A * 

\ ^ V 

C^OV o iV* 

* 4j * 

4 rV ^ - 



® Or « 5 * ° 


. - A ,.WaSL*. V 
*. ^o r . 


6» _*^. 0 


^ * 



. A v -y ' 

♦ <y ^f> ® 


;. ^ o 5 ;■ 

P * I...- y % .. \:---' , 

<y * • • r V* (t » * o^. Cy <0 r A-.y V 

.^ v .vw V ,^ 

• '’*<? • 
c,^ - 4 ' * 


0 • 

’< • ..,„ 

O o5 ^ rs ^ 0 ^t. * 

* °o ^7~y* % A° ^ v ;^To* ^ 






; a" ^ - 

< ^ 4 '^T k .T* ' a 

^ v 0*0 
0 c°_ ^ o 



SvP, 


° ° ww; a" “vp. 


V* o' 


A. * 

% A? a-'-' ' 

^ <£ * 
l 

- 5 ^ 0 n//gs\vr* ^ - 



«V K 

V 


4 

, <*'••»* A 0 

4 r .“», «•?. 

^ ^V^.% % a c 

v- o' 




■ y «. -I*?- rf> \ 

\ v t#0 ^ V ^ o 

*• ^ ^ ^ /. 

: v\ v : 



° ^rw C.V * 

o V V^v 

* ^ y •> 


* % A 



O # * 


« -o/ ambit* *+<fi • 




• v> ^ 

* <(y >L 

0^ c °JL • ♦ ^ 



* tA 


\><b 


° y-v 

. <* 

A v . *■ ' • -9 

y 

: ^ : 

0 <5°* 5- 0v V, *, 

°o ‘.yrr*’ p 1 ^'‘.t.»*\/ \'*- , ’ , / i ,., 

,r ^* <>> s # • , <> - 1 • o A 0 ^ Vrw * ^ ^ 

•. %,♦ ••iSSfe’- -*'- • Sf -'' > 
















PARLOR COMEDIES 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED” and “MORE THAN 

BARGAINED FOR ” 


BY 

CHARLES R. TALBOT 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

FRANCIS MILLER and H. PRUETT SHARE 



BOSTON 

D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY 

32 FRANKLIN STREET. 


THEY 





FNcbizo 

.A5T3 

Coypy Z 




Copyright, 1883. 

D. Lothrop & Company. 



t 









Press of L. N. Fredericks, 
31 Hawley St. Boston. 


/ 






NO QUESTIONS ASKED . 



{The Scene is at first in the Music Room of a Residence on 
Commonwealth Avenue , and afterwards at Littlefield's Farm in 
the Village of Random.) 

I. — THE DIAMOND BRACELET. 


GERALD GROSVENOR and RICHARD MANN. 

J UST at the close of a fine October day two young fel- 
lows go up the steps of a comfortable looking house on 
Commonwealth Avenue, and one of them, pausing an instant 
to make sure of the number, pulls the bell. They are pres- 
ently admitted and shown into a room to the left, some dis- 
tance along the hall. The servant lights the gas and, 
instructed to say that “ two gentlemen have come about the 
bracelet,” withdraws. The room, lighted up, is evidently a 
music-room. There is a grand piano between the windows, 
with two stools before it and behind these a music-stand 
filled with music. In one corner of the room a harp and a 
violin are carelessly stood up together and in the other, on a bracket, there is a bust of Chopin. There 
are appropriate pictures on the walls, and a sofa and chairs standing about. The newcomers look 
about them with interest. They are* well-grown lads of sixteen or seventeen years, not in the most pre- 
sentable condition. As a matter of fact they have been out bicycling and have only dismounted five min- 
utes since. They have on blue flannel shirts, knee-breeches and canvas shoes. One of them, who is 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


of a slender and rather elegant figure, steps about the 
room with his hands in his pockets and with the air 
of being entirely at home. His companion, who is 
shorter and strongly built, stands awkwardly in one 
place, apparently ill at ease. It is he who first 
speaks, in a tone somewhat awed. 

Richard Mann : “ I say, Grove — I wish I was 
out of this. I feel as foolish as a snared rabbit/' 
He glances back toward the door as if it might not 
yet be too late. 

Grosvenor , turning from one of the pictures which 
he has been critically examining : “ Nonsense, Rich ! 
There isn't anything to be afraid of. All you've got 
to do is to keep still, /’ll do the talking.” Then, 
as he turns again to the picture, he adds carelessly : 
“ You can take hold of my hand, though, if that will 
do you any good.” 

Richard: “I hope there won’t any women come 
down, anyway.” 

Grosvenor, whirling about in dismay : “ See here ! 
I never thought of that. Suppose they should send 
down a man, after all ! All our cake w T ould be dough. 
Why didn’t I have sense enough to ask for the lady 
of the house ! ” He stands a moment, whistling 
softly to himself and reflecting. “ Where is the thing, 
Rich ? Let’s see it, will you ? ” His companion pro- 
duces from his pocket a small newspaper parcel. 
Grosvenor takes it and unrolling the paper holds up 
to view a gold bracelet flashing with jewels. “ It is a 
beauty, Rich. There’s no discount on that.” He 
clasps the bracelet on his own wrist and gazes at it 
with increased admiration. “I don’t see w T hy gentle- 
men shouldn’t wear bracelets as well as ladies. I 
declare, I almost wish we had kept it. I sup- 
pose there’s no doubt about this being the one, is 
there ? ” 

Rich, motioning somewhat impatiently toward the 
paper which has been wTapped around the bracelet 
and which Gerald holds crumpled up in his hand : 
“ The advertisement is on the paper there. You can 
read it yourself.” 

Grosvetior, stepping beneath the chandelier and 
opening the piece of newspaper : “ Let’s see. O, 

here ” — reading — “ ‘ Roman-gold bracelet,’ ‘ Opal 
set around with sixteen diamonds,’ ‘ Marked on inside 
Father to Lillian on her 16th birthday , March 23, 
1880.’ No ; there’s no mistake about it.” He un- 
clasps the bracelet and examines it carefully. “This 
is certainly the article. ‘ Lillian.’ It’s a pretty name, 
isn’t it ? And — let’s see — she is just sweet sixteen and 


a half, now.” He mechanically replaces the brace- 
let upon his wrist. “ I wonder if it will be Miss 
Lillian herself that comes down.” Then his eyes 
wander back to the advertisement. “ 4 Three hundred 
dollars reward and no questions asked.’ Why, man, 
they think the thing has been stolen. Why didn’t I look 
at the advertisement before ? Maybe it has been 
stolen, and the thief dropped it where we found it.” 
He laughs softly. “ Ha, ha, ha ! Rich, it’s a better 
joke than I thought it was. They will think we are 
the thieves.” 

Richard, not seeming to share his companion’s 
mirth : 44 1 must say I feel like one already. And 
I’m quite sure I shall act like one.” 

Grosvenor, glancing down at himself and still 
greatly amused : “ We certainly don’t either of us 

look over respectable. I wonder what they will 
think of us. At any rate, I suppose they will give us 
credit for being honest when we refuse the reward.” 
Suddenly he raises his hand : “ St ! Somebody’s 
coming. It’s a lady, too, true as you live.” A fem- 
inine voice is heard in the hall above, and then an 
ominous rustle of silk upon the stairs. Grosvenor 
quickly unclasps the bracelet from his wrist and puts 
it, with the paper, into his pocket. Then he goes and 
places himself by one of the chairs, standing there 
easily, cap in hand. His friend Mann is for the 
moment quite panic-stricken, looking this way and 
that. All at once he starts forward and reaching up 
to the chandelier turns down the gas so that there is 
only a half-light in the room. Gerald looks at him 
in surprise : “ What’s that for ? ” 

Richard ’ doggedly : 44 1 can’t stand so much light. 
Eyes are weak. It’s all right : they’ll think the girl 
left it so.” There is no time to do or say more for 
in another moment a lady appears at the door. 
She is an elderly person, somewhat tall and spare, 
very richly and (for her age) youthfully dressed. 
Her hair, which is quite gray, is carefully and 
fashionably arranged. Her stately manner as she 
pauses upon the threshold, her gold mounted eye- 
glasses, and even the heavy rustling of her dress — 
it still seems to rustle constandy though she stands 
motionless — make her at the instant a very impos- 
ing personage. As she enters, Gerald Grosvenor 
advances a step and makes an elaborate bow. 
Mann instinctively falls back behind his friend. 
The lady inclines her head very slightly. Her 
manner throughout the interview is cold and 
haughty. 


XO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


n. 

MISS CAJtRIXGTOX, GERALD and RICHARD. 

JIhs Carrington. " You are the — the persons 
who ? — " She hesitates as though, in the making up 
of her vocabulary, an occasion like the present had 
never been foreseen. 

Gerald. with an airy wave of the hand : “ Won’t 
you be seated. Madam ? ” He draws forward a 
chair but she takes no notice. “Yes; we came 
about the bracelet. We saw the advertisement 

and — ” 

Miss Carrington, quickly interrupting : “ Then you 
have the bracelet. I suppose, and are prepared to re- 
turn it. We shall be very glad to get it back upon 
any terms. It had a value beyond its cost. I will 
write you a check at once.” She is about to go out 
again by another door. 

Gerald, hurriedly : “ But, Madam — Excuse me, 
but we don't wish for any check.” 

Miss Carrington : “ O, but I have not so much 
money by me. We did not expect to hear from the 
advertisement so soon. It will be perfectly safe, I 
assure you. I will send word to the bank the first 
diing in the morning and they will pay you the 
money without question.” 

Gerald, as soon as she gives him opportunity : 

i - quite understand ” — 

Miss Carrington, drawing herself up and cutting 
him short again : “ I quite understand, sir. You are 
to deliver up the bracelet and receive three hundred 
dollars for so doing. And no questions are to be 
asked as to who you are or how you came by it. 
That is the bargain ; and you need not fear any vio- 
lation of its terms on our part.' 7 

Gerald: “But, Madam, we wish to tell you how 
we came by it. You see we were out Chestnut Hill 

- i : : — 

Miss Carrington, finally : “ It is of no consequence 
whatever. If you will wait one moment, I will go 
into the library and write the check." She passes out. 

Richard, with something like a growl : “ A nice 
mess this is! I told you we should be taken for 
thieves ” 

Gerald, laughing but not a little provoked, himself : 
“ Confound it ! She won't give a fellow any chance 
to explain. She's bound to have it her own way, any- 
how. She wouldn't believe us if we told her just 
where we found it and all about it. However, what s 
the odds ? All the better joke. I call it.” 


Richard ’ anxiously: “But what are you going to 
do ? You don’t mean to take the check, do you ? ” 
Gerald : “Of course not ! ” 

Richard: “Then what’s the use of staying any 
longer? Let’s slide out before she comes back.” 



I 


THIS IS CERTAINLY THE ARTICLE.' 


He clutches Grosvenor eagerly by the sleeve. “ Come 
on ! Will you ? ” 

Gerald, not moving except to shake his head : 
“ No ; that would be too ridiculous. Besides, I’m 
riot through yet. I want to see the young lady.” 



NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


Richard, looking at him in consternation : “ What ! ” 

Gerald : “ You just wait. I’m going to have the 
young lady down.” 

Richard, grasping his cap with desperate resolu- 
tion : “ I’m going, anyway. You can tell her I got a 
telegram.” He starts forward but the other puts out 
his hand. 

Gerald, with authority : “No, you’re not either. 
Just stay where you are. Hush ! Here she is 
again.” 

Miss Carrington, coming back with the check in her 

hand : “ There, if you will take this to the th 

National Bank to-morrow morning, the money will be 
paid and no questions asked. Of course, you have 
brought the bracelet with you ? ” She looks at 
Gerald. 

Gerald: “ O, yes ; we have brought it.” He takes 
the bracelet from his pocket and stands holding it. 
“ But — I really beg your pardon, Madam, but — ” He 
hesitates and then summons all his assurance. “ The 
fact is, Madam, that while we are now quite ready to 
restore the bracelet, we should not feel warranted in 
delivering it to anybody save the actual owner. As I 
understand it, you, Madam, do not claim to be 
that? ” 

Miss Carrington, in some surprise : “ Why, no ; I 
am not the actual owner. But I” — 4 

Gerald, very innocently : “So I judged from the 
inscription. It is the property, I suppose, of a younger 
lady ? ” 

Miss Carrington , haughtily : “I am not aware that 
my age or that of any one else is a subject of discus- 
sion.” 

Gerald: “ O, certainly not. ‘ No questions asked.’ 
That is the agreement. The bracelet belongs, then — ? ” 

Miss Carrington : “ The bracelet is the property of 
my niece.” 

Gerald, with heroic firmness : “ Then it is only into 
the hands of your niece that I can deliver it.” 

Miss Carrington, flushing with indignation : “ Is 
not this unusual, sir ? ” 

Gerald: “The circumstances are unusual, Madam. 
Under such circumstances I believe it is the rule to 
deliver property only to the actual owner.” 

Miss Carrington, with withering sarcasm : “Ah ! 
pardon my great ignorance. I confess to not being 
familiar with the rules of your — professions 

Ge?*ald, placing his hand upon his heart and bow- 
ing: “May I ask if Miss — if the young lady is at 
home ? ” Finding that Miss Carrington is determined 


to regard him as a thief, he feels that a little imperti- 
nence more or less can hardly signify. 

Miss Carrington, with complete decision: “It will 
be quite impossible for her to see you.” 

Gerald, with equal decision : “ Then, I am very 
sorry but we shall be compelled” — He stops short 
in great astonishment, interrupted this time not by 
Miss Carrington but by a new voice coming from the 
hall door-way, toward which his back has latterly 
been turned. Both young gentlemen turn quickly 
around. The new-comer is, without much doubt, the 
very person whom Gerald has asked to see. She is, 
at a glance, an exceedingly bright and attractive 
young girl, full of life and spirits. Her dress is of 
some dark stuff, stylishly made. There is a knot of 
blue ribbon in her braids. She is blonde so far as 
she is distinctly anything ; but her eyes are dark and 
they are so full of mischief as to make one doubt the 
possibility of her ever being really grave or angry 
even when all the rest of her features are doing their 
best to appear so, as seems to be the case at the 
present moment. 

hi. 

MISS CARRINGTON, LILLIAN HOME, GERALD and 
RICHARD. 

Lillian , speaking in a quick, determined tone as 
she walks directly toward the group : “ I’ve been 

sitting there on the stairs listening long enough. Aunt 
Carrie, what do you stay here talking to these people 
for ? Why don’t you pay them and let them go ? ” As 
she finishes, she halts beside her aunt and regards the 
two boys with an air of demand. They have fallen 
back at her approach, Richard in genuine dismay and 
even Grosvenor somewhat abashed. As the four now 
stand, the hall door is directly behind the visitors. 

Miss Carrington : “ My dear Lillian, why did you 

come down ? This is no place for you. If you will 
retire, / will deal with these persons.” 

Lillian : “ My dear aunt, excuse me, but I do not 

see why I should retire from my own music-room.” 
Then she turns abruptly upon Gerald Grosvenor. 
“ Sir, do you know that it is my bracelet you have 
there ? Give it me this instant ! ” She stamps her 
foot upon the floor and holds out her hand. 

Gerald, advancing a step: “Certainly, Miss. I 
shall be most happy to do so.” He bows with exag- 
gerated humility and gives her the bracelet. “ I 
assure you I had no thought of retaining it. I only 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


wished to give it directly into the hands of her to 
whom it rightfully belonged and whom so beautiful 
an ornament” — here he again bows profoundly, 
weighed down perhaps with the burden of his own 
heavy sentence — “ would most become.” 

Miss Carrington , impatiently : “ Well, Lillian, 

since you have the bracelet it only remains to give 
them the reward.” She holds out the check to 
Grosvenor, looking over him rather than at him as 


Gerald, nodding hastily to his friend and then turn- 
ing back to the ladies : “ There is one thing I should 

like to say, Miss. I tried to explain it to this lady, but 
she would not hear me ” — 

Miss Carrington, at her loftiest : “ There can be 

no more of this, sir. Here, take your check — Lillian, 
give him the check — ” She holds out the check to 
her niece who mechanically takes it. “ I will speak 
to Thomas.” With an air of determination she goes 



she does so. He does not take it however. Indeed 
his attention is at that moment called away by his 
comrade who, standing directly behind him, has 
given a vigorous pull at his belt. 

Richard , in an undertone of distressed entreaty : 
“ Come on, Grove. O, come on ! Somebody else’ll 
be in presently.” 


“CERTAINLY, MISS, I SHALL BE MOST HAPPY TO DO SO.’’ 

out through the library to a door beyond and calls to 
some one. 

Richard, who has fallen back some distance behind 
his friend and is within a few feet of the hall door: 
“ Come along, Grove, will you ? ” He is now in 
such desperate alarm that he speaks quite aloud. 
“There’ll be no end of a racket in a minute. 7’m 
going, anyway.” He turns and makes for the hall as 
he hears Miss Carrington still calling. 

Gerald : “ I wish you would believe me, Miss, 

when I say that — ” A man’s voice is heard through 
the library. Gerald pauses and looking behind him 
discovers than his companion has gone. He stands 
for a moment uncertain. “ I’m afraid I’ll have to 
go too, Miss,” he observes almost lugubriously. “ I 
seem to be left all alone, and in another minute I 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


shall be overpowered by numbers. I won’t go off, 
though, as Rich did, without saying Good Evening.” 
He takes a step backward, bowing twice with great 
ceremony, and then, turning, walks quickly out after 
his friend. 



PATIENT STEEDS. 


IV. 

MISS CARRINGTON and LILLIAN. 

Miss Carrington , coming again : “So they are 
gone at last, are they? Never mind, Thomas ” — 
calling back. “ Lillian, did you ever know such im- 
pertinence ! ” 

Lillian , thoughtfully : “ And so those were thieves, 
were they? I never should have guessed it. How 
polite that one was — the one that did the talking.” 

Miss Carrington, severely : “ Polite, indeed ! 

Why, he deliberately insulted me. And the idea of 
his demanding to see you ! ” 

Lillian, with placid satisfaction : “ O, I think that 

was all right. It was natural, I suppose, that he 
should prefer to give me my own bracelet. I am so 
glad I’ve got it back again ! I’ll clasp it tight upon 
my wrist — there! — and always wear it in future. 
It’s a great deal safer than putting it in my chatelaine 
bag, when I’m going any place. If I hadn’t put it in 
my chatelaine bag last Tuesday night as you insisted, 
I shouldn’t have had it stolen. I knew some of those 
men in the waiting-room saw me. And my father 
would now be three hundred dollars richer.” She 
suddenly starts and looks at the check which is still in 
her hand. “ Dear me, aunt Carrie ! Look there ! ” 
She holds it up and bursts out laughing. 

Miss Carrington , in wonder: “Why, what is that! 
Didn’t they take the check ? ” 


Lillian, still laughing : “ No ; they were so fright- 

ened when you called Thomas that they hurried off 
without it. And I never thought to give it to them. 
Do you suppose they will come back ? ” 

Miss Carrington : “ Perhaps, so. And yet they 

were in fear, all the while, of being arrested. They 
did not trust us. Such people never do thoroughly 
trust anybody.” 

Lillian, musingly : “ I wish they would come back. 

I’d like to ask them how they got into my chatelaine 
bag without my knowing it. I’m sure I didn’t go to 
sleep on the cars. I forgot, though, no questions 
were to be asked. I wonder if that was the regular 
professional costume. I couldn’t see very well ; but 
it didn’t look at all nice. However, I’ve got my 
bracelet back ; and if anybody ever is smart enough 
to steal it again, they have my permission beforehand 
to keep it.” 

II. — A MYSTERIOUS ARRIVAL. 

Random is an ideal country village some twenty 
miles from Boston. “ Littlefield’s ” is a large farm 
situated on the outskirts of the village, where board- 
ers are taken. The place is well known to certain 
Providence and Boston people of position who 
come there a portion of each summer for real com- 
fort and rest. The house itself, originally an ordi- 
nary two-story farm-house, has been added to and 
refashioned until it is commodious and comfortable 
but almost amorphous. There is a broad piazza 
along the front and around the south side of the 
house. From this piazza in front a beautiful lawn 
runs down beneath orchard trees toward the road 
some distance away. To the right, as one looks 
from the house, a well-kept drive comes up from 
the road, passing the south piazza and turning off 
toward the barns and out-buildings which are a 
good distance back. The time is late August ; and, 
beside the Littlefields themselves, it so happens that 
there are just now less than half-a-dozen people at 
the Farm. 

i. 

MR. LITTLEFIELD, MISS CARRINGTON, LILLIAN HOME, 
HOPE HARRIMAN and MR. MOLYNEUX. 

The group are sitting upon the front piazza late in 
the afternoon. Mr. Littlefield is a white-headed, 
courtly old gentleman who treats his boarders al- 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


ways as his guests and is much liked by them. At 
the present moment he is lying back in his rocking 
chair half asleep, while Lillian Home, seated on the 
edge of the piazza, is devotedly keeping the flies off 
him with a palm-leaf fan. Miss Carrington is sew. 
ing. Miss Harriman, a lively young lady of Lillian’s 
age, has a book in her lap which she takes up and 
yawns behind now and then. Mr. Molyneux is re- 
clining in a steamer-chair which he has placed on the 
grass so as to face the rest of the group. This latter 
is a long, slim person with a genteel and habitually 
languid air, extremely well-dressed. His face is 
thin and refined. He wears a delicately-curling 
black moustache. His age may be anywhere from 
twenty to thirty and opinions would differ greatly 
as to his being handsome. He is smoking a cigar- 
ette. 

Hope Harriman , looking up dreamily from her 
book : “ I am so glad I didn’t go to Bar Harbor 
with mamma and Kate. I don’t know how anything 
could be better than this. What a perfectly lovely 
afternoon it is ! ” 

Lillian, pausing in her occupation and letting her 
eyes wander about the landscape before them : 
“ Isn’t it ! And it is lovelier here than anywhere 
else in the world, I do believe. How soft and cool 
the air is ; and just look at that sky and those bits 
of cloud, and the pine woods over beyond the road. 
I can hardly keep my eyes off it all. Mr. Molyneux, 
why don’t you turn around so that you can see it?” 

Mr. Molyneux , lazily : “I am quite satisfied with 
my present view, Miss Home. I always was more 
fond of ladies than landscape.” 

Miss Carrington, looking up at the last speaker 
while she unpins from her knee and then repins the 
piece of work that she is hemming : “ What I like 

most about Random is that it is always so deliciously 
cool here — even upon the hottest days. There is 
always a breeze.” 

Mr. Molyneux , blowing a little column of smoke 
into the air and watching it, with eyes half-closed, as 
it rises above him : “ Perhaps, Miss Carrington, that 

is partly due to these two young ladies. It seems to 
me that there is always a breeze where they are.” 

Miss Carrington , looking up at him again and 
smiling graciously : “ You are quite right, Mr. Moly- 

neux. They do keep us in a perfect gale most of the 
time.” Then she lays down her work a moment and 
regards the two girls with a serious expression. “ I’m 
afraid it will be a long time before they quiet down 


and learn to behave themselves.” She breathes a 
gentle sigh as she resumes her work. 

Lillian : “ I’m afraid it will be a long time before 

we are as prim as you are, aunt Carrie.” 

Hope, in an aside to Molyneux: “Yes, as prim 
or as primitive either.” 

Molyneux, going on with the conversation again : 

“ But I quite agree with you, Miss Lillian, that this is 
the loveliest spot in the world. It seems to me a 
sort of Happy Valley which I had read about but not 
believed in until I was suddenly dropped into it. I 
shall never cease to congratulate myself upon the 
chance that brought me here. It was the merest 
chance. I was standing in a hotel reading-room and 
trying to make up my mind where I would go next, 
when the name of the village, upon a time-table, 
caught my eye and I concluded to hunt it up. It 
was a sort of Random shot, you know. I am a great 
hand to let myself drift in that way. Besides, there 
was no reason why I shouldn’t go where I pleased. 
My people are all abroad so I was the only one con- 
cerned. I wonder that Mr. Littlefield took me in, 
though — a perfect stranger and coming as I did. 

Miss Carrington, again looking up and smiling 
very sweetly : “ O, Mr. Littlefield is a good judge of 

people. We always have nice people here. Besides, 
of course he knew all about your father. Everybody 
has heard of Mr. Jacob Molyneux, the president of 
the Great Consolidated Bee Line Railroad.” 

Molyneux: “Yes; but he had to take my word 
for it that my father was my father. However, Mr. 
Littlefield knows a gentleman when he sees him. 
Isn’t that so, Mr. Littlefield ? ” 

Mr. Littlefield, starting up and looking around : 
“ Eh ? What was it ? I beg pardon.” . 

Miss Carrington : “We were speaking of your tak- 
ing in strangers at the Farm. And how you always 
seem to know whether they are nice or not. How is 
it?” 

Mr. Littlefield : “Why, I don’t think that any but 
nice people ever apply.” 

Miss Carrington: “But you don’t ordinarily receive 
people you don’t know anything about, do you ? ” 

Mr. Littlefield: “Well, no. But almost everybody 
who comes here has either been here before or 
else knows somebody else who has. And that sort 
of introduces them. Still, if any respectable appear- 
ing person should come along, and we had room, we 
should take him in and ask no questions, I suppose.' 

Lillian, resting her hand, with the fan in it, on 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


Mr. Littlefield’s knee: “In other words, ‘Boarders 
Taken and No Questions Asked.’ Isn’t that it, 
aunt Carrie ? ” She looks up at Miss Carrington and 
laughs a little, as though the words she used had 
some special meaning for herself and her aunt. 

Mr. Littlefield: “O, we don’t advertise at all. We 
generally have applications enough without that.” 

Molyneux : “ I don’t suppose you are exactly in the 
track of swindlers and sharpers down here, either. 


Lillian , glancing up mischievously at Molyneux : 
“ We should have to depend upon Mr. Molyneux in 
such a case.” 

Molyneux , carelessly : “ Well, I certainly have had 
some experience. I’ve been all over creation and 
I’ve seen any number of professional sharpers. But 
after all, most of them are so very sharp that they 
easily pass themselves off for honest men. In several 
instances I have known persons of the most respect- 



They frequent more crowded places. I wonder 
though that they don't try some of these country 
boarding-houses once in a while — where people aren’t 
on the lookout for them. Do you think that you 
would know a rascal, too, Mr. Littlefield, as well as a 
gentleman ? ” 

Mr. Littlefield, shaking his head: “I don’t know 
about that. I have never had much experience.” 


able and even cultivated manners and appearance, 
who turned out to be thieves and pickpockets. I 
met a man in our front hall once walking off with my 
father’s overcoat on ; and I give you my word it 
looked much better on him than it did on its distin- 
guished owner. I might as well tell the whole story, 
too. The man was so pleasing and plausible that he 
quite convinced me that it was all right, until he had 



NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


bowed himself safely out with his booty.” He pauses 
and there is a little laugh from his interested listeners. 
He looks out at them through the smoke with which 
he has surrounded himself, smiling too but with the 
air of a man who finds a private and peculiar amuse- 
ment in what he has himself been saying. Then he 
goes on : “O, there is nothing so useful to confidence 
men and impostors now-a-days as an air of innocence 
and respectability. I often flatter myself that I 
should make a most successful member of the frater- 
nity.” He throws away the remnant of the cigarette 
he has been smoking, and taking a little book and 
some tobacco from his pocket begins to roll a new 
one. Lillian watches the process with a sort of fasci- 
nation. His fingers are long and white, deft and pli- 
able as a woman’s. On one of them is a costly 
solitaire diamond. 

Lillian: “ I am sure that you would make a good 
pickpocket, Mr. Molyneux. You have just the kind 
of hands.” 

Molyneux , laughing: “Yes, except that they are 
rather large to insert into people’s pockets.” He 
pauses, feeling in his vest pocket for a match. Sud- 
denly: “Hallo! Is that the stage?” He raises 
himself so as to look over his shoulder up the road. 
There is a rumbling sound heard, which presently 
grows very loud and distinct. 

Lillian, jumping up : “ Yes ; and I do believe it 

is coming down the road. There’s no one expected 
here, is there, Mr. Littlefield?” They all listen a 
moment ; and then, as the stage appears in sight and 
presently turns down the drive, they await its arrival 
— the two young ladies with eager curiosity, Miss 
Carrington and Molyneux with more dignity and in- 
difference. Mr. Littlefield goes forward as the vehi- 
cle draws up at the end of the piazza. Two lads of 
“citified” dress and air climb actively down from 
the top, and their luggage — two travelling valises 
and a long bag made of a gray, woollen material and 
containing it is difficult to guess what — is handed 
down after them. They pay the stage-driver; and 
then the taller of the two — his companion is short 
and thick-set — turns to Mr. Littlefield. 

ii. 

The same with Gerald grosvenor and richard 

MANN. 

Gerald: “ I hope you’ll forgive us, sir, for dump- 
ing ourselves down at your door in this unceremoni- 


ous fashion. But there really wasn’t anything else 
to do. They wouldn’t take us, up at the tavern. 
They were choke-full. And we didn’t want to stay, 
either. They had a lot of Jubilee Singers overnight. 
They said you would take us in; and, I’m sure, I 
don’t know what we’ll do if you don’t. I suppose 
there is an Overseer of the Poor to whom we could 
apply.” His manner is rather too assured, but he 
looks up at Mr. Littlefield with such a frank, good- 
humored smile that the latter is quite won over at 
once. 

Mr. Littlefield, heartily : “ Bless you ! T ake you 
in ? Of course we will — and keep you as long as 
you want to stay. Come right in, both of you. 
Haven’t you any trunks ? ” 

Gerald: “ No ; we have only our valises and this 
— this thing here. Take hold, Rich, will you?” 
He stoops down and grasps one end of the mysteri- 
ous woollen bag while his friend takes hold of the 
other. 

Mr. Littlefield: “Never mind that. Leave it 
right there and I’ll have one of the men carry it up.” 

Richard Mann, hastily : “ O, no thank you, sir. 

It’s nothing but — That is, it’s only — ” 

Grosvenor, interrupting his friend : “ We can just 

as well take it up, sir. It’s something we are a little 
particular about. Which way shall we go? ” 

Mr. Littlefield : “This way. Here, give me your 
bag at any rate.” He takes Gerald’s travelling bag 
and leads the way along the piazza, the boys following. 
As they pass the ladies, Gerald takes off his hat and 
bows to them with great gallantry. Richard, on the 
other hand, drops his eyes and is entirely occupied 
with his burden. They go in at the front door and 
up the stairs. 

hi. 

MISS CARRINGTON, LILLIAN, HOPE and MOLYNEUX. 

Hope , gleefully, so soon as the newcomers are out 
of sight : “ Well, now, this is an arrival ! Isn’t it 

splendid ! Who do you suppose they are, Lillie ? ” 
Lillian, in the same spirit: “I’m sure I can’t 
imagine. And what could they have had in that 
mysterious bag that they were so careful of ? Why, 
they handled it almost reverently. O, Mr. Molyneux, 
do you suppose that it was dynamite and that they 
are Nihilists ? ” She looks at him in mock suspense. 

Mr. Molyneux, lightly : “ It looked to me as though 
it were full of jimmies.” 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


Lillian: “Jimmies? Those are burglar’s tools, 
are they not ? 0, yes ; and they are burglars.” She 

claps her hands. “ O, won’t it be delightful ! ” 

Hope : “ It is quite evident that they are burglars 

or pirates or something of the sort. Did you notice 
what a hardened, blood-thirsty look that one had who 
took off his hat to us ? And the other one was such 
a desperate villian that he dared not look us in the 
face.” Both the girls laugh long and merrily. 

Miss Carrington , at length and with profound 
solemnity: “ I suppose you young people think it is 
all very funny — what you are saying. But there’s 
many a true word said in jest. Lillian, did you 
notice nothing peculiar about those two persons ? 
Did it not occur to you that you had seen them some- 
where before this ? ” 

Lillian , in surprise : “ Seen them before this, aunt 
Carrie ? Why, no indeed ! where should I ever have 
seen them ? ” 

Miss Carrington , slowly : “ I have a suspicion — 
Indeed, it is more than a suspicion, it is almost a cer- 
tainty — that those two persons are the same ones” 
— here she looks directly at Lillian, lowering her voice 
and speaking with an awful soberness — “the same 
ones, Lillian, that brought back your bracelet , last Octo- 
ber ! Indeed, now I think of it more, I am sure they 
are the ones.” 

Lillian, returning her aunt’s look with one of 
amazement : “ Why, aunt Carrie, you make me 

crawl. Do you mean to say — But, pshaw ! That is 
too ridiculous ! ” 

Miss Carrington, with injured dignity : “ It may be 
ridiculous, Lillian, but it may be true nevertheless.” 

Lillian : “ But, aunt, they were horrid and these 

were the very opposite of that. I’m sure that one 
who took off his hat to us was just as nice and gen- 
tlemanly as he could be. Didn’t you think so, 
Hope ? ” 

Hope sincerely: “Why, yes. Joking aside, I 
really thought he was decidedly cute.” 

Miss Carrington , coldly : “ I can’t agree with you. 
It struck me that he was very forward and familiar. 
But even if what you say is true, weren’t we just re- 
marking, before we heard the stage, that thieves and 
pickpockets, now-a-days, appeared just like gentlemen ? 
Mr. Molyneux, you are not as innocent as these girls. 
Did these two persons look just right to you ? Did 
you notice nothing? ” 

Mr. Molyneux , deliberately : “ Well, to tell the 

truth, Miss Carrington, I am not sure that I didn’t. 


I thought, as did you, that one of them was very for- 
ward, much more like an impostor than a real gentle- 
man. And the other certainly had a sneaking way 
with him. And, then, their dropping down in this 
way without any luggage or anything. Of course, 
you can’t tell ; but I shall keep my door locked while 
they are here and I advise you to do the same. Had 
you any particular cause for suspecting them, Miss 
Carrington ? ” 

Miss Carrington, positively: “Yes, Mr. Molyneux, 

I had. I feel quite certain now that they are the 
same persons who returned to us a while ago a 
diamond bracelet that had been stolen. Jt was not 
very light in the room when we saw them, and it was 
almost a year ago and they were very differently 
dressed. Nevertheless, I recognized them the mo- 
ment they got off the stage; and when that one 
spoke, I was sure of it.” 

Lillian, still unconvinced and protesting: “But 
these two persons that came to-night are so young, 
aunt Carrie. They can't be thieves.” 

Miss Carrington , with irresistible logic : “ My dear, 
if they were not too young to be thieves a year ago, 
they are not too young now.” 

Molyneux, interposing : “ Their age has nothing to 
do with it, Miss Lillian. Why, they take ’em almost 
before they can talk, and bring ’em up to the busi- 
ness. You are certain these are the same ones, Miss 
Carrington ? ” 

Miss Carrington, now thoroughly convinced : “ Yes ; 

I could take my oath to it, if it were necessary. I % 
hope it won’t come to that, however. Why, Lillian, 
you remember yourself that those two persons that 
night were very much like these. They were very 
young, and one of them was very bold and assuming, 
just like this one, and did all the talking ; while his 
companion, who was just such a short, stout fellow as 
this other, never said a word the whole time. Don’t 
you remember ? ” 

Lillian, thoughtfully: “Yes, I do remember. 
And he hung down his head just like this one did, 
and seemed to want to keep himself out of sight. 
Dear me ! I wonder if they are the same ones.” 

Miss Carrington: “You may depend upon it they 
are. Why, I should know them in Egypt.” 

Hope Harriman, who has been listening to the 
discussion with deep interest and now holds up her 
hands in pretty dismay: “And do you really think 
they are robbers ? Then, I think we ought to tell Mr. 
Littlefield and send for a constable. I declare, I 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


don’t believe it one bit; but it would be dreadful if it 
should turn out that they were.” 

Lillian , seconding her friend’s suggestion : “ Yes ; 
ought we not to tell Mr. Littlefield ? ” 

Miss Carrington , doubtfully : “ I don’t know. Of 
course it might be, after all, that we were mistaken ; 
though I know we are not. Perhaps we had better 
wait a little. What <\o you think, Mr. Molyneux? ” 
Mr. Molyneux, rising from his chair and carelessly 
stretching himself : “ Why, if you are not absolutely 
certain, it might be well to wait a day or two before 
saying anything. We can keep an eye on ’em and 
look out for our things. No. I don’t think I would 


say anything just yet. Leave ’em to me. /’ll watch 
’em.” He throws away his cigarette, and putting his 
hands into his pockets, saunters carelessly away. 

Miss Carringto?i , taking up her work-basket and 
putting her work in it: “I think, girls, we had better 
go up and get ready for tea, now. It must be almost 
six.” She rises from her chair. 

Lillian: “ Hope and I haven’t any getting ready to 
do, aunt Carrie. We are ready already. Let’s go 
down to the bars, Hope, and see the view. Shall 
we ? ” She takes her friend’s arm and they slowly 
disappear around the house. Miss Carrington goes 
indoors. 


NO QUEST IONS. ASKED. 

(A Comedy.) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


III. — A COMMITTEE OF INVESTIGATION. 

i. 

GERALD GROSVENOR and RICHARD MANN. 

T HE two boys, after finishing their breakfast — to 
which they had come down rather late — have 
come out on the side piazza and established them- 
selves there in the sun. Gerald occupies a wooden 
chair, painted red, which he has tipped back against 
the house in a position almost horizontal. He is 
dressed just as when he came last night save that his 
feet, which rest upon the round of the chair, are en- 
cased in a pair of richly embroidered slippers. Rich- 
ard is seated on the piazza step, half turned away 
from his friend. His whole attention just now is 
given to a smooth, square stick of black walnut 
which rests upon his knees and upon which he seems 
to be marking with his knife. 

Gerald, stretching his arms and yawning : “ Ho, 

hum ! Rich, I feel like the last rose of summer 
before last. I must try and get some sleep to-day. 
If we’re going to be up nights, we’ll have to sleep 
daytimes.” 

Richard, without looking up : “ One thing, any- 

way. We’ve got to be down in time for breakfast. 
We kept the table standing half an hour this morn- 
ing after the rest were through.” 

Gerald, in the midst of another yawn : “ Fiddle- 

strings! What of it ! We pay our board, — or expect 
to. Can’t we do as we please ? ” 

Richard : “ I hate to make people trouble. I 

always feel uncomfortable myself when I do.” 

Gerald, dismissing the matter : “ Well, we made 

nobody any trouble except the girl; and I made it 
all right with her. I gave her a quarter after break- 
fast and called her Maude, and she said she hoped 
I’d stay a hundred years, and be late every morning.” 

Richard, after a moment : “ It’s a boss place to 

stay, isn’t it ? The old gentleman is as good as 


cu'stard all the time, and Mrs. Littlefield is ditto. 
It’s mighty convenient for us, too — with the pond 
right down back here. If only those people weren’t 
here, now ! I tell you what, Grove, I am by no 
means sure yet that they don’t know us. That girl 
watched me out of the corners of her eyes all supper- 
time last night. And as for the other lady — the 
elderly one — I could feel her look at me. Those 
eye-glasses of hers are just like a couple of sun- 
glasses. They burn holes in my face every time she 
brings ’em to bear on me.” 

Gerald, rather impatiently : “ Nonsense, Rich ! 

It’s all your imagination, about their watching you. You 
are always imagining such things. You can’t go by the 
Army and Navy Monument without thinking that 
those women on it are all giggling at you.” He 
pauses a moment. Then : “ No ; I watched them all 
the while, and I tell you they haven’t a suspicion. 
Of course they looked at us. But it was only curi- 
osity. For my part, I am mighty glad they are here. 
I think that girl with the black eyes, Miss Lillian 
What-ever-it-is, is just business. I’ve a great mind to 
tell her the whole story about the bracelet, now. It 
would help one to get acquainted. You know 
you ran off and prevented my explaining, that 
time.” 

Richard, relinquishing his work for a moment and 
speaking with great vehemence: “If you do, I’ll 
never forgive you.” Then he gets up and stands 
facing his friend, his knife in one hand and the 
piece of stick in the other : “ Promise me you woii't 
let ’em know, Grove. If you don’t promise me, true 
as I live I’ll go off again before you have a chance to 
tell ’em.” He stands waiting for an answer, his face 
showing real alarm and determination. 

Gerald, laughingly: “Well, well. Sit down, old 
fellow, and make yourself easy. I won’t say anything 
about it, if you feel that way. I won’t, upon my 
honor.” He sits looking at his friend and still 
laughing, until the latter seems satisfied and resumes 
his seat. Then, after a moment, he goes on with the 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


discussion of their fellow-boarders : “ That Moly- 

neux seems to be a nice fellow.” 

Richard: “ Humph ! I’m glad you like him. I 
don't!” 

Gerald , wondering : “ What’s the matter with 

him ? Has he kept his eyes on you, too ? ” 

Richard , with contempt : “No. If he did, I’d 
just go over and close ’em for him before he could 
wink twice with ’em. I ain’t afraid of him , any- 
way.” 

Gerald : “ Why don’t you like him ? ” 

Richard : “ Because I don’t. I tell you there’s 

something mean about that fellow. I wouldn’t swap 
jaekknives with him for fear of being cheated. And 
I know something about jaekknives too. I hope he 
isn’t any of my relation.” 

Gerald : “ You have got an uncle named Molyneux, 
haven’t you ? Perhaps he is ! ” 

Richard , with profound disgust : “ I wouldn’t own 

him, and I don’t believe Uncle Jake would either. 
You mark my words, I shall get into a row with that 
fellow if I stay here long. And if I do, I shall leave 
my finger-prints on him, you see if I don’t.” He 
bends over his work and digs his knife into it as 
though it were somehow allied to the subject of his 
remarks. 

Gerald, returning to a more agreeable subject : 
“ At any rate those two girls are uncommon nice 
ones, both of them. You can just tell your peo- 
ple that. And we can have a pleasant time with 
them.” 

Richard ’ gruffly : “ I didn’t come down here to 

have a pleasant time with girls. I came on other 
business.” 

Gerald : “ Confound it, Rich ! You never can 

appreciate any sport but gunning and fishing.” 

Rich , doggedly : “ I never can appreciate any 

sport where I am the game myself. And I always 
am when girls are round. I don’t like ’em, and they 
don’t like me. That’s all there is about it.” 

Gerald, good-naturedly : “ All right, old man. 

Don’t get mad about it. It’s different in my case. I 
like ’em, and they like me. I wonder where they are 
now — those two.” 

Rich : “ They are out front of the house.” 

Gerald, with interest : “ Are they ? How do you 

know ? ” 

Rich : “ If you will keep still a bit, you can hear 

them yourself.” 

They listen a moment and the hum of voices is 


heard from around the house, with presently a peal 
of silvery laughter. 

Gerald, getting up decidedly and arranging his 
clothes a trifle : “ 7’m going around to talk to ’em. 

Will you come ? ” 

Richard, bluntly : “ No ; I won’t.” 

Gerald, apparently really desirous that his friend 
should go with him : “ Oh, come along. I want you 

to talk to one of ’em while I talk to the other. It’s 
more fun that way. Come on.” He takes hold of 
the other’s arm. 

Richard, shaking himself loose: “No; go on, if 
you like. I’m well enough off here.” 

Gerald : “ Walk down the drive with me anyway 

— till I see where they are. Come, there’s a good 
fellow.” 

Richard gets up from his seat and they walk down 
the drive toward the road. 

ii. 

LILLIAN a?ld HOPE. 

As Grosvenor and his friend come in sight, the two 
girls are seen to be sitting and talking together out 
at the other end of the front piazza. 

Hope , breaking off abruptly in what she is saying 
and laying her hand on Lillian’s arm : “ Hush ! 

There they are this minute ! ” This in a whisper. 
They sit quite still for a moment watching the young 
gentlemen as they walk along. Then, still in a sub- 
dued voice but with a manner very much excited, 
Hope continues : “ Now is our chance, Lill. The 
Committee of Investigation will at once proceed to 
business.” She jumps up eagerly from her chair, 
and seizes Lillian by the sleeve. 

Lillian, holding back : “ But what do you mean to 
do?” 

Hope : “ Mean to do ? I mean to do what we have 
just resolved unanimously to do. I’m going to find 
out. O, do come ! They’ll escape out the gate in 
another minute.” She stamps her foot in an agony 
of impatience. 

Lillian, still reluctant to go : “ We can’t run after 
them in that way.” 

Hope, sinking back in her chair again with an air 
of vexation : “ What shall we do, then ? They don’t 
seem inclined to run after us very fast.” 

Lillian: “Wait a moment. See, they are not 
going out the gate at all.” The two boys have 
turned and are now slowly making their way across 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


the orchard that is between the house and road. 
The girls, eagerly watching, see them presently halt 
and stand talking, Grosvenor apparently trying to 
persuade his companion to something or other. He 
seems to fail in this however, for in a moment he 
turns abruptly and starts off by himself directly 
toward the house ; while Richard moves on across 
the orchard. 

Hope , in surprise : “ Why, what can that mean ? 
Lillian, I do believe he is coming here.” 

Lillian , calmly: “Yes; and now we can proceed 
to our Investigation with some hope of success. 
Don’t you see how much better it will be if we can 
get them each by himself ? Do you, now, go out 
under the trees and take the bashful one, and I will 
stay here and interview the other. I have a little 
plan that I can carry out better with him than with 
the other one. You must go at once. Here he 
comes.” 

Hope , who is already on her feet : “ All right. 
Good bye, if I never come back. He is such a 
terrible monster that he may eat me up, you know.” 
She steps gaily off from the end of the piazza and 
takes her way, with proper caution, and with her eye 
constantly upon the unsuspecting object of her plans, 
down a path to the left that leads, between long rows 
of currant bushes, to a summer-house some distance 
away. 

hi. 

LILLIAN and GERALD GROSVENOR. 

Lillian is now alone upon the piazza. As Gerald 
comes up she is standing on tiptoe intently gazing up 
into the honeysuckle vines overhead. 

Lillian , with animation : “ O, Mr. Grosvenor, do 

look at this humming-bird. Why, there are two of 
them. Ar’n’t they cunning ? Ah ! ” — regretfully — 
“ there they go. O, I do think that humming-birds 
are the darlingest things that ever were. Don’t you, 
Mr. Grosvenor ? ” 

Gerald , somewhat drawlingly : “Well, yes — 
present company excepted.” He looks straight at 
Lillian with a smile which Miss Carrington would 
have pronounced impudent. His manner with ladies 
is always a little florid and his politeness overdone, 
a fault common enough with lads of seventeen who 
fancy themselves great ladies’ men. “ I thought 
your friend was with you.” 

Lillian : “ She just this minute went down the 


path there. 1 thought your friend was with you.” 

Gerald : “Well, so he was. But when I proposed 
coming up here where you ladies were, he shied 
off.” 

Lillian , with interest : “ Does he always shy at 

ladies ? ” 

Gerald: “ Yes ; he can’t go by ’em on the street 
without shying.” 

Lillian , with great solicitude : “ Dear me ! That 



GERALD RESTORES THE BRACELET A SECOND TIME. 


is a serious fault. Couldn’t he wear blinders or some 
thing ? ” 

Gerald: “Blinders? Oh!” He laughs heartily. 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


“Well, that’s a good one! I’ll tell him that you 
suggested it.” 

Lillian : “ Do. And if that doesn’t cure him, I 

think I would try driving him squarely up to some 
ladies and making him face them.” 

Gerald : “I’m afraid he wouldn’t face them then. 
He’d hang down his head.” 

Lillian: “Then you must tighten the check-rein.” 

Gerald, laughing again : “ I see that you are 

thoroughly versed in the matter of training horses 
and young men.” 

Lillian : “ O, I generally am able to manage 
them. I am sure, if I could talk to your friend a 
little while, I could cure him of his bashfulness. It 
is much easier to cure bashful people than it is to 
cure people who are not bashful enough.” She in 
her turn looks straight at him as she says this last. 

Gerald , sublimely unconscious of the thrust : 
“ But you will never get a chance to talk to him un- 
less you corner him.” 

Lillian , looking off to the left in the direction of 
the summer-house : “ If I am not mistaken, he is 

cornered this moment. I think I saw him go into 
the summer-house; and now Hope Harriman has 
gone in there too. She will give him a lesson ! She 
is perfectly merciless when she gets hold of bash- 
ful young men.” 

Gerald: “That will be capital. I hope she will 
show him no mercy. It is just what he needs — the 
heroic treatment.” He looks in the same direction 
as his companion a moment. Then he goes on : 
“ Did you say your friend’s name was Hope Harri- 
man ? It is a pretty name, isn’t it ? I beg your par- 
don, but may I ask you what your last name is ? I 
did not catch it when Mr. Littlefield introduced me 
at table last night. I never do understand names 
when I am introduced. I suppose it is because I am 
so embarrassed.” 

Lillian, dryly : “ That must be it. My last name 

is Home.” 

Gerald, effusively; “Ah! You must be the very 
person about whom the song is written.” 

Lillian, wrinkling her brow : “ The song ? What 

song ? ” 

Gerald: “ Why, ‘ Sweet, sweet Home. 

Lillian, with sudden and tremendous dignity : 
“You will find that I am not ‘ever so humble’ if 
you make me many such remarks as that.” 

Gerald : “ I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean 

it.” 


Lillia?i : “ I don’t suppose you mean it when you 

beg my pardon. However, it doesn’t signify.” She 
walks along the piazza a short distance and sits 
down in one of the chairs. “ I told Hope I would 
go to walk with her, so I suppose I must wait. I 
wonder what keeps her.” She pretends to smother a 
yawn. 

Gerald, walking along and coolly seating himself 
opposite her in the steamer-chair which is still stand- 
ing on the grass exactly as when occupied by Moly- 
neux the night before : “ I suppose she finds a 

conversation with my friend as entertaining as I do a 
conversation with hers.” 

Lillian, with deliberate malice : “ Dear me. Well, 

I trust that your friend is more capable of appreciat- 
ing her brilliant conversational powers than I am of 
appreciating yours.” Gerald makes no reply to this. 
He is not sensitive and he has a tolerably good 
opinion of himself ; but he is gradually awaking to a 
knowledge of the fact that he is being subjected to 
a systematic course of snubbing. He sits looking at 
her in silence and turning all this over in his mind. 
Lillian meanwhile seems to have forgotten all about 
him. Nevertheless, the instant he removes his eyes 
from her — as he presently does, turning his head to 
look again in the direction of the summer-house — 
she swiftly detaches from her wrist a bracelet that 
she wears, and by a single quick motion causes it to 
fall upon the grass close beside his feet. She starts 
forward with a little cry, as if to recover it ; but she 
gives him plenty of time to pick it up for her, which 
he at once does, jumping up from his chair. As he 
lifts the bracelet from the ground he is unable to re- 
press a slight exclamation ; but he then holds it out 
to her with entire self-possession. She has watched 
him closely. His astonishment at sight of the brace- 
let is not by any means as marked as she had hoped, 
but such as it is she makes the most of it. Indeed, 
she has her observation all ready: “You seem very 
much astonished at the sight of my bracelet. What 
is the matter with it, pray ? ” She as yet makes no 
motion to take it. 

Gerald: “I don’t see that anything is the matter 
with it. Did I seem astonished ? ” 

Lillian, raising her eyebrows : “ Why did you ex- 
claim when you saw it ? ” 

Gerald : “ Well ” — coolly — “ it reminded me at 
the moment of one that His Royal Highness the 
Grand Duke of Nantucket gave to my sister when we 
were dpwn there last summer. Hers was an opal 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


set with diamonds, just like this. Only hers had 
seventeen diamonds while this has but sixteen.” He 
glances at the setting. 

Lillian, with irony: “You seem to have counted 
them pretty rapidly.” 

Gerald : “ O, I am very quick at figures, — a sort 
of Chain-lightning Calculator.” 

Lillian : “ I should think so ! ” Then sternly : 
“ But I want to know, seriously, why you exclaimed 
when you saw my bracelet. Of course that is all 
silliness about your sister.” 

Gerald : “ Are you quite sure that I did exclaim ? ” 

Lillian: “To be sure I am! You acknowledged 
it yourself a moment ago.” 

Gerald: “Why, yes; so I did. Well, I’ll never do 
it again. I promise you I won’t.” 

Lillian , stamping her foot : “ Will you tell me why 
you did it ? ” 

Gerald , suddenly substituting great soberness of 
manner for his air of lightness : “ Miss Home, pray 
excuse me ! ” 

Lillian: “ But I won't excuse you.” 

Gerald : “ O, but I beg you will.” He clasps 
his hands and assumes an imploring attitude. “ It 
is impossible that I should tell you.” 

1 Lillian : “Impossible is the adjective of — people 
of weak intellect. You must tell me.” 

Gerald , in great apparent distress : “ But it is 
something that I ought not to say. It is something 
you would not like to hear.” 

Lillian: “ I don’t care, sir. It is my bracelet and 
I have a right to know.” 

Gerald: “But you will never forgive me if I tell 
you.” 

Lillian , firmly : “ I’ll never forgive you if you 
don’t.” 

Gerald ’ anxiously : “ And you’ll forgive me if I 
do?” 

Lillian , nodding : “ Yes, yes.” 

Gerald : “ Upon your honor as a lady ? ” 

Lillian: u Yes! Now tell me without more words. 
Why did you exclaim when you saw the bracelet? ” 

Gerald: “Well, because — ” he hesitates. 

Lillian : “ Because what ? ” 

Gerald: “ Because I thought at that moment what 
a queer thing it was — ” He halts again. 

Lillian : “ What a queer thing what was ? ” 

Gerald: “Well, what a queer thing it was for a 
girl to do — to fling her bracelet down in that way 
just to show it off to a fellow.” 


Lillian , standing and looking at him a moment 
puzzled and astonished at this conclusion of the 
whole matter, so different from what she had ex- 
pected; and then, comprehending his words ’more 
fully, her eyes flash with genuine fury : “ Mr. Gros- 
venor, I’ll never forgive you for saying such a thing 
as that, so long as I live ! ” She holds out her hand. 
“ Give me my bracelet, sir ! ” 

Gerald , deprecatively and making no move to com- 
ply : “ But you promised to forgive me.” 

Lillian , with increasing wrath : “ Give me my 

bracelet, sir, this minute l Or shall I have to call a 
policeman ? ” 

Gerald, in the same tone : “ And you made me 

say it.” 

Lillian : “ I didn’t make you think it.” 

Gerald, frankly : “ Well, to tell the truth, I did?it 

think it. And I beg your pardon sincerely for saying 
it. I didn’t really mean to. It said itself. It was 
my ‘ brilliant conversational powers ’ got the better 
of me. That’s what it was. Come now, Miss Home, 
be fair. You snubbed me most unmercifully three 
or four times off running and I bore it like a hero. 
And when I got a good chance, I couldn’t help hit- 
ting back. You don’t think any less of a fellow for 
defending himself, do you? — even against a girl. 
It was with weapons that she can use ten times better 
than he can. I say honestly now, I haven’t the 
slightest idea that you dropped the bracelet on pur- 
pose. Of course you didn’t. I beg your pardon. 
Come, now, grant it and I’ll give you it back.” He 
looks up at her now with a smile irresistibly good- 
natured and prevailing. 

Lillian, still with dignity but evidenttly mollified : 
“ Very well. Since that seems to be the -only way to 
get back my bracelet, I suppose I must grant it.” 
She holds out her hand again for the bracelet and 
this time he gives it to her at once. Then, without a 
single word more, she turns about and marches into 
the house leaving him there alone. He looks after 
her with an amused smile. 

iv. 

HOPE HARRIMAN and RICHARD MANN. 

Richard, deserted by his friend, has continued his 
walk until he presently finds himself close by the 
summer-house door. At this moment, too, he sud- 
denly discovers that one of the young ladies is mov* 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


ing along a path in his direction. He at once takes 
refuge in the summer-house, thinking thus to escape 
notice. He stands in great trepidation waiting for 
her to go by ; but instead of this, to his horror and 
dismay, she appears the next moment in the open 
doorway. He looks about in desperation for some 



RICHARD IS FAIRLY TRAPPED. 


other way out, but there is none. He is fairly en- 
trapped. 

Hope , with authority : “ Come, sir, you need not 

look about like that. There isn’t any other door. 
You are my prisoner.” To this Richard makes no 
reply whatever. He appreciates her humor but for 
the life of him he cannot respond to it. He is pain- 
fully embarrassed and there is a lump in his throat 


so big that he cannot possibly speak. He stands, the 
very picture of the Abject, moving uneasily from one 
foot to the other and wildly rolling his eyes about in 
the effort to avoid meeting hers, at length letting 
them rest longingly on the door behind her. She 
with both hands extends her dress so as to the more 
completely occupy the passage and then renews the 
attack : “ What is the matter with you ? What makes 

you move about in that funny way? Can't you stand 
on both feet at once, any way ? ” She pauses and 
looks at him curiously. He tries to meet her glance 
but is utterly unable and, obliged to do something, 
he suddenly pulls out his silk handkerchief and begins 
wiping the perspiration from his forehead. She has- 
tens to show her sympathy : “ Ah ! You seem to be 

suffering very much. Is it so very hot ? ” 

Richard ’ able to blurt out something at last : 
“ Hot ? It’s perfectly Hottentot ! ” 

Hope , delightedly : “ Why, you have got a tongue 

after all, haven’t you ? ” 

Richard, soberly: “Yes, I have.” The acknowl- 
edgment is evidently a painful one but he feels 
compelled to make it. 

Hope, sharply: “Then why are you so sparing in 
the use of it? Don’t you ever say more than two or 
three words at a time ? One would think you had 
got to pay for everything you said, like we do 
when we send a telegram, and that you were afraid 
all the time of getting more than ten words.” S! e 
pauses again , but not long enough, it would seem, 
for him to think of anything to reply. “ Can't yen 
talk, anyway? Why, talking was one of the first 
things that I learned. I advise you to practise on a 
telephone for a while — saying all you’ve got to say 
in five minutes. That will develop your conversa- 
tional powers, I warrant you.” Richard at this 
moment, quite unable to endure the situation longer, 
gathers himself up and, setting his teeth hard to- 
gether, is about to make a break for the door reck- 
less of consequences. She perceives that she is 
pushing him too hard and determines to change her 
tactics. She suddenly fixes her eyes upon the jack- 
knife in his hand, assuming an expression of horror. 
Then she starts back with a little shriek, covering 
her face with her hands: “ Oh ! What is that ? A 
knife!” 

Richard, taking a step forward and forgetting his 
embarrassment for the moment: “O, it's nothing 
but a jackknife, Miss. I was only whittling with 
it.” He holds the knife out to show her. 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


Hope, slowly removing her hands from her face 
and breathing a sigh of relief : “ Is that all ? What 

is it you are making? Can I see?” She advances 
with a charming air of interest and takes the stick. 
“ What a pretty piece of wood ! What is it you are 
making ? What are all those marks ? ” 

Richard : “ It’s nothing much. I’m going to cut 

out a chain in the wood, with those whizzer-ma-jigs 
at each end.” 

Hope: “ Those are whizzer-ma-jigs, are they ? I’m 
so glad ! I don’t think I ever saw a whizzer-ma-jig 
before.” 

Richard, becoming interested and feeling more 
at ease : “ O, I called it a whizzer-ma-jig because I 

didn’t know what else to call it. It isn’t really a 
whizzer-ma-jig.” 

Hope , with great disappointment : “ O, it isn’t 

really a whizzer-ma-jig ! What is it, then ? ” 

Richard : “ Well, I’m going to cut out a ball inside 
there, so it’ll be in a sort of box. It’s a difficult 
thing to do but I can do it. And when it is done, 
the wonder will be how it ever got in there. It can’t 
get out, you know.” 

Hope , archly : “Just like you in this summer-house, 
1 suppose ? Well, if you don’t call it really a whizzer- 
ma-jig, what do you really call it ? ” 

Richard : “Well, when it’s done I can call it a ball 
and chain.” 

Hope: “O, a ball and chain ! Like what I’ve seen 
the prisoners wear down at Fort Adams, I suppose ? 
And are you making it for yourself ? Then you are a 
robber in disguise! O, Mr. Mann, please tell me if 
you are ! ” She clasps her hands together and looks 
into his face in an imploring manner. As she speaks 
the words, Richard, thinking at once of the affair 
of the bracelet, turns red as fire and hangs down 
his head again. Hope watches him with a sort of 
delight : “ I do believe you are! O, what shall I 
do ! I never was alone with a robber before in all 
my life.” She clasps her hands again and looks 
around in apparent consternation : “ I wonder if I 
ought to scream.” Then she abruptly turns to him 
and lays her hand appealingly upon his arm : “You 
are not a robber, are you, Mr. Mann. Tell me that 
you are not.” It is difficult to tell just how far 
she is sincere in all this. Probably she does not 
exactly know herself. 

Richard, with rough emphasis : “ Of course I’m 

not a robber ! ” 

Hope , instantly raising her finger at him : “ What, 


sir? What is that? Don’t you dare to tell me any 
stories, sir! Sit down there where I can look at 
you. There ! Now look me in the face, sir. Do 
you mean to tell me ” — slowly moving her finger 
back and forth at him — “ that you are not a robber 
and that you did not come down here, you and your 
friend, upon a deliberate robbing expedition ? ” She 
waits for his answer, her finger still raised, regarding 
him sternly. 

Richard, aside : “ What the Dickens does she 

mean ? Can she know what Grove and I came down 
here for? I vow, I believe she does.” He tries 
again to look her fairly in the face, but his eyes turn 
from side to side in spite of him and finally drop to 
the hem of her dress. 

Hope: “Come, sir, confess. It is of no use to 
try and deceive me. I know all about it, I assure 
you.” 

Richard, desperately : “ Then what in thun — I 

beg pardon. But if you know all about it, what is 
the use of my telling you ? ” 

Hope, grimly : “ I want to hear it from your own 

lips. Come, sir, will you speak ? ” 

Richard, with a sudden burst : “ Well, then — Yes, 

we did come down here upon a robbing expedition. 
I suppose you might call it that. Anyway, it is a 
hooking expedition.” He is not in a mood for jokes 
but he has made one. 

Hope, triumphantly : “ Ah ! I knew I could wring 

a confession from you. I told Lillian I could. So 
hooking is what you call it ? That is the technical 
term for stealing, I believe. And all those things 
that you had in that great bag were instruments for 
— hooking ? ” 

Richard, sullenly : “Yes, for that and for shoot- 
ing.” 

Hope, with a liftle gasp : “ Ah ! But of course 

you robbers go armed. And are you really such 
hardened — ahem ! Are you really so cruel that you 
would do any shooting ? ” She gazes at him in a sort 
of odd fascination. 

Richard, with energetic contempt : “ We’re not 

likely to kill anything around here unless it’s a little 
time.” 

Hope: “And this ‘hooking’ as you call it — I 
suppose you do it mostly in the night ? ” 

Richard : “ Why, yes ; we have to. They’d have 

us in the lock-up if they caught us. These country 
laws are such ridiculous things. But, I say, you 
mustn’t let on about it. If they caught us at it 


NO Q L/ES TJONS A SKED. 


they’d make us pay five dollars for every one we 
hooked, if ’twas nothing but a shiner. That’s the 
law. You won’t now, will you?” He rises to his 
feet and waits for her to answer him with a new kind 
of concern. 

Hope , standing and returning his look with an 
amused expression which gradually becomes one of 
wonder and perplexity : “ I declare ! After all is 

said and done, I don’t know what to make of you. 
Are you making a goose of me after all ? ” She as- 
sumes a terrible frown as she puts the question. 

Richard , hastily : “ Making a goose of you ? I 

never made a goose of a girl in all my life. It is 
they that always make a goose of me.” 

Hope, curtly ; “ Girls have a right to make geese 


of boys. Well” — her eyes dwelling upon him 
thoughtfully, “Then it is evident that either you are 
a robber or else you are a lunatic. Which is it ? ” 
Richard, a good deal puzzled by this painful alter- 
native : “ Eh ? Which ? I don’t know.” Then he 

suddenly adds, with deep humility: “Perhaps I’m a 
little of both.” At that instant the village clock is 
heard to strike. He gives a start. “ What’s that ? 
Ten o’clock? I hope you will excuse me, but I’ve 
got something to do that must be done.” He moves 
toward the door and this time she makes no effort to 
detain him but allows him to depart and stands look- 
ing after him still with an expression of mingled per- 
plexity and amusement. 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 

(A Comedy.) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


IV.— DOWN BY THE POND. 

i. 

MOLYNEUX and SINKER HOTCHKISS. 

Down back of the “Littlefield's,” perhaps a quarter 
of a mile distant, is a large pond known as Random 
Pond. Its shores are thickly planted with pine trees 
and some very cosey and inviting spots are to be 
found beneath their shade. Just as the village clock 
strikes three on the afternoon of this same day, a 
boat with a single person in it pulls up to the shore 
at a point nearest “ Littlefield’s.” This person is an 
ill-dressed, rather ill-conditioned fellow, one of the 
Random “ characters,” who gets his living, such as it 
is, by fishing and doing odd jobs. He steps on shore 
and stands with the painter of the boat in his hand. 
At the same moment Molyneux appears, coming 
along a cart-path. 

Molyneux : “ So you are here, are you, old Go-as- 

you-please ? I didn’t suppose you were ever on 
time.” 

Sinker: “Wall, I don’t calkerlate t’ be. I 

gin’rally let other folks do the waitin’. Time’s 
money, ye know.” 

Molyneux : “ Then you must be a rich man. You 
always seem to have plenty of it. Well, if your time 
is so valuable, you needn’t wait. My passengers will 
be along presently. What shall I do with the boat 
when I’m through ? ” 

Sinker: “You c’n leave her right here. • I keep 
iier here now. Here,” — he holds out a key — 
“1 want ye to lock her up, — to that staple there.” 
lie points to a post near by. “I’m goin’ ter keep 
her chained hereafter. Sumbuddv stole her las’ 
night. An’ by Juniper! ” — he has been pulling the 
boat up on the bank but he stops now and seems to 
consider deeply an idea that has just occurred to 
him. • “I’ll bet a locomotive agin a rockin’ chair they 
was off fishin’ in her. D’ye s’pose they was ? ” He 
looks up at Molyneux thoughtfully. 

J r olyneux , standing with his hands in his pockets, 


and coolly returning the look : “ Yes, I suppose 

they were. And I suppose beside that they were out- 
of-towners.” 

Sinker , eagerly: “ Out’towners ! You don’t, do 
ye ? Great Josephus ! /’ d give ’em out’towners ’f I 

c’d ketch ’em ! What makes ye think they’s out’- 
towners ? ” 

Molyneux , asking a question himself instead of 
replying : “ There is a law against anybody’s fish- 

ing here except the regular inhabitants of the town, 
isn’t there ? ” 

Sinker , with emphasis : “ Wall, now, th&re is ! 

Five dollars fine fur ev’ry fish caught, an’ half the 
money t’ go t’ the informer. I'd like ter ketch ’em at 
it ! Do ye hev any idee who had my boat las’ night ? 
Ye spoke ’s though ye knew somethin’ ’bout it.” 

Molyneux , after a moment’s silence beckoning his 
companion to come nearer and speaking in a confi- 
dential way : “ Hotchkiss, I’ll tell you what you do. 

Don’t lock up your boat tonight. Leave it as usual. 
But keep watch here in the bushes somewhere and, 
unless I am mistaken, they’ll steal it again sometime 
between ten o’clock and twelve. If they do, just let 
’em do it and you go for a constable and be ready 
for ’em when they come back. You may make a good 
thing of it.” He looks at the man and winks signifi- 
cantly as he finishes. 

Sinker , greatly excited : “ Gracious ter Grindstones ! 
I’ll do it! You c’n jest set that down in yer d’ary 
’forehand. Who be they, any way ? ” 

Molyneux : “ That is for you to find out. You just 
do as I tell you.” Just then the sound of some one ap- 
proaching is heard. “ Here are my lady friends. You ’d 
better go before they come. Shall I take the key ? ” 

Sinker: “ No ; jest hitch her to the post there. 
I’ll be ’round here ’bout six, myself.” And, talking 
to himself, he goes off along the bank. 

ii. 

MOLYNEUX and RICHARD MANV. 

Nothing further is seen or heard of the ladies how- 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 




ever, and so 
Molyneux pres- 
ently starts back 
along the path in 
search ' of them. 
All at once he 
comes upon a 
coat and vest 
lying upon the 
ground under 
a wide-spreading 
oak tree. He at 
once recognizes 
them as belong- 
ing , to Richard 
Mann. He halts 
beside them and 
looks around. 
The owner does 
not seem to be 
in sight. 

Molyneux , call- 
ing but not so 
loudly that he can 
be heard at any 
great distance : 
“ Mann ! Mann ! 
Hello there ! I 

say Mann !” 

There is no an- 
swer. He waits 
a moment and 
then repeats his 
call just a little 
louder. Still 

WITH UNDISTURBED GOOD-HUMOR. 

there is no an- 
swer. He looks cautiously about him once more 
and then, stooping down, picks up the vest. There 
is a heavy gold chain attached to it and, as he lifts 


the vest, a 
hunting-case 
watch, also 
of gold, slips 
from the 
pocket and 
hangs dan- 
gling by the 
chain. Moly- 
neux, paus- 
ing yet an- 
other instant with his eyes and ears open to any 
sights and sounds about him, swiftly detaches the 
chain, watch and all, from the vest. Suddenly a 
gruff voice addresses him from above his head. 

Richard Mann , who has, for reasons best known to 
himself, climbed into the oak tree and, hearing Moly- 
neux’s step, has remained silent and observant, him- 
self unseen : “ I say now, be so good as to put that 
back where you took it from, will you ? ” He steps 
down a limb or two as he speaks and now appears in 
plain sight. He is of course in his shirt-sleeves. 

Molyneux , looking up and smiling with perfect self- 
possession : “ O, there you are, are you ? I concluded 
you must be somewhere about and I thought I could 
make you discover yourself.” 

Richard, with unabated gruffness : “ Do you hear 
what I say? You just put that watch back, or I’ll — 
light on you.” His attitude as he stands on the limb 
all ready to jump gives added force to the threat. 

Molyneux, with undisturbed good-humor : “ Then 
as I don’t care to be ‘lit on,’ especially by a person 
of your avoirdupois, I think I will do as you say.” 
He puts the chain back in the button hole and the 
watch in the pocket. At the same time Richard drops 
lightly beside him. Molyneux hands him the vest 
and adds with dignity : “ I must say though, my 

young friend, you might employ a little more agreea- 
ble tone of voice.” 

Richard, doggedly : “ I’m not your * young friend ’ ; 
and when I see anybody helping themselves to my 
property, I don’t stop to tune my voice.” 

Alolyneux : “ But my dear fellow — ” 

Richard : “ I’m not your ‘ dear fellow ’ either.” 

Molyneux , biting his lip : “ But you surely don’t 
think I intended to steal your watch ? ” 

Richard, putting on his vest and eyeing his com- 
panion all the while with undiminished hostility : “ I 
surely think that it was mighty lucky — for me — that 
I had my eye on you.” He feels in the right-hand 


' V' 


.'H 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


pocket with his thumb and forefinger: “Yes, the 
money is all right.” 

Molyneux , angrily: “Confound your impudence! 
Do you think I am going to stand here and have you 
insinuate that I’m a thief in that way ? ” 

Richard : “ Don’t you like it ? ” 

Moly?ieux : “ No, sir; I don’t like it ! ” 

Richard , throwing up his chin a little : “ Then — 
you can do the other thing, you know.” 

Molyneux, now fairly provoked : “You young jack- 
anapes ! I’ve a great mind to give you a lesson in 
manners.” He takes a threatening step forward. 

Richard , settling himself firmly, not budging an 
inch, and speaking slowly through his teeth : “ I 
would — try it — if I were you.” He has evidently 
worked himself into a great rage, though he still re- 
strains himself. 

Molyneux , drawing suddenly back again : “ There 
is just one thing that prevents me.” 

Richard : “ Are you sure there are not two ? ” He 
raises his two fists just a little, holding them close to 
his sides and clenching them so tightly that they 
tremble. 

Molyneux, coolly: “I don’t indulge in broils in the 
presence of ladies.” He turns, with a face quite 
smiling and calm again, to the three ladies who just 
now enter upon the scene. 

hi. 

MOLYNEUX and RICHARD, MISS CARRINGTON, LILLIAN 

and hope. 

Hope, a trifle in advance of the rest : “ Why, why, 
gentlemen ! What does this mean ? Fie, Mr. Moly- 
neux ! As my little brother says to me sometimes, 
why don’t you take somebody of your size ? ” 

Molyneux, lightly : “ O, it is nothing, Miss Harri- 
man. It is nothing, ladies, I assure you. This 
young gentleman did me the honor to insult me and 
I was about to chastise him. As for his size, he 
should have thought of that before.” 

Richard, who has picked up his coat and is putting 
it on in sullen silence, but for whom this is too much : 
“ You have no need to worry about my size, Miss. I 
shall have plenty of time to grow, I fancy, before he 
ventures to lay his finger upon me.” Then feeling that 
the popular sympathy, as things are, is likely to go 
against him and determined to defend himself : “As 
for my insulting him, I caught him taking my watch 
out of my vest and 1 as good as told him that I be- 


lieved he meant to steal it. If that is an insult, he 
may make the most of it.” 

Miss Carrington, indignantly : “Insult! I should 
think that it was an insult ! ” 

Richard, who under ordinary circumstances could 
not possibly have thus faced the lady but whose 
stronger feelings now quite overcame his diffidence : 
“ It isn’t an insult if it is true , is it ? ” 

Mollyneux, suavely : “ I assure you that it is 

not true, Miss Carrington. I found his vest lying 
here and, merely by way of a joke, — ” 

Miss Carrington , interrupting : “ O, we do not need 
your assurance, Mr. Molyneux, to tell us that it is not 
true. Of course, it is too ridiculous. Besides ” — 
this she adds with increased sweetness of manner 
and a gracious inclination of the head — “we cer- 
tainly should feel bound to take the word of a son of 
Mr. Jacob Molyneux as against that of a person 
whom none of us know anything about.” Her man- 
ner becomes decidedly frigid again as she refers to 
poor Richard, on whom, meanwhile, she scarcely 
deigns to look. 

Richard ’ all at once too much occupied with what 
she had just said to think at all of her manner in saying 
it : “ Excuse me, Madam, but do I understand you 
to say that he is the son of Mr. Jacob Molyneux?” 

Miss Carrington, stiffly : “ Precisely, sir — the son 
of Mr. Jacob Molyneux, the president of the Great 
Consolidated Bee Line.” 

Richard, with blunt inelegance : “ Well ! He is a 
liar ! ” 

Miss Carrington, growing visibly taller : “ Sir ! 

such language to a lady is simply infamous ! ” 

Richard, scarcely heeding her words in his eagerness 
to say his own say : “ Madam, permit me to tell you 
something. Mr. Jacob Molyneux, the railroad presi- 
dent, is my mother’s sister’s husband. He has only one 
son and never did have. That son is my own cousin, 
and I know him when I see him. This gentleman is 
not he.” He says all this very emphatically and dis- 
tinctly. After which, without waiting for any answer 
or even to note the effect of his words, he takes off 
his hat with quite an air (indeed, when he is at his 
ease, his manners are very good) and leaves them. 

iv. 

MISS CARRINGTON, HOPE, LILLIAN a?ld MOLYNEUX. 

Miss Carrington, immediately and with great em- 
phasis : “ What a monstrous brute ! ” 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


Molyneux , hotly: “What a monstrous liar ! Excuse 
me, but one can’t help using strong language under 
such circumstances. Did you hear what he said ? 
Why, he actually had the impudence to say that he 
was my cousin ! ” He looks around as if for sympa- 
thy. 

Lillian, innocently : “Why, no — did he? I thought 
he said that you weren't his cousin.” 

Molyneux: “ He certainly said that my father was 
his uncle. I suppose that would make us cousins.” 


especial purpose of finding out whether or no they 
are impostors ? We wanted to be sure , you know.” 

Molyneux: “ And did you make yourself sure ? ” 

Hope , with some hesitation : “ Why, yes — didn’t 
we, Lillian ? I had a long conversation with Mr. 
Mann and he at length acknowledged, in just so 
many words, that he was a robber and that he came 
down here to rob. He was dreadfully bashful and 
I’m not sure but I frightened him into it, though. 
But he certainly talked very strangely, and when he 



ON THE POND. 


Lillian , smiling : “ Well, yes, it certainly would — 
if Mr. Molyneux is your father.” 

Miss Carrington , imperatively : “ How ridiculous ! 
As if it made any difference what that impostor said ! 
For my part I am tired of them both and tired of 
talking about them. I dismiss the subject.” She 
waves her hand dramatically. 

Hope, not quite agreeing to such summary dis- 
missal : “ Did you know, Miss Carrington, that Lillie 
and I interviewed them both this morning with the 


left me I was' prepared to believe most anything. 
And Lillian has had an interview with the other one ; 
^nd I believe she has quite made up her mind that 
it was he who stole her bracelet. Wasn’t that it, 
Lillian ? ” 

Lillian , also rather doubtfully at first : “ Well, 
yes, I suppose it was. I contrived to drop my 
bracelet so that he saw it suddenly, and he showed 
his astonishment very plainly. He turned it off very 
well, though, when I asked him about it.” 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


Miss Carrington: “Well, I should think that all 
this, together with the fact that I am quite positive 
that I recognize them, would be enough to convince 
you. If it isn’t, I have an additional bit of evidence 
to communicate which I am sure will quite settle the 
matter. Those two persons were out of the house 
last night from eleven o’clock until nearly morning.” 
She utters this fact very slowly and solemnly, as 
being a most damaging piece of testimony. 

Hope , thoughtfully: “And that agrees exactly with 
what he told me — that they had to do their ‘hook- 
ing ’ in the night. ‘ Hooking ’ was what he called 
it.” 

Miss Carrington : “ How vulgar ! ” 

Lillian : “ Did you see them go out, Aunt 

Carrie ? ” 

Miss Carrington : “Yes; and I saw them come in 
again. And when they went out they carried that 
mysterious bag with them.” 

Hope : “ O, yes; that was what they carried their 
jimmies and their guns in. That was what Mr. Mann 
said.” 

Molyneux , in turn : “ It is just here, I think, that a 
little information that I have picked up comes in. I 
chanced to overhear a conversation between them 
this morning. I am not in the habit of eaves- 
dropping, I assure you. But under the circum- 
stances — ” 

Miss Carrington , approvingly : “ Certainly ! under 
the circumstances, I should do it myself.” 

Hope, impatiently : “ And what was it you over- 
heard, Mr. Molyneux?” 

Molyneux : “ Well, I heard a great deal that I 
don’t think it best to repeat. It wasn’t compli- 
mentary to any of us, especially to you and me, 
Miss Carrington ” Miss Carrington raises her chin 


haughtily. “ And then they got to talking about this 
night-expedition that you have just told us of. I 
can’t give you the exact words they used here either — - 
their talk was really not fit to repeat.” 

'Miss Carrington , vehemently : “ Of course not ! 

The talk of such persons is never fit to repeat.” 

Molyneux , going on: “And it was very ‘blind’ 
talk too. But it was perfectly clear that they had 
been out upon some errand that was contrary to law, 
and for which, if caught, they would be made to 
suffer the severest penalties. Indeed, I was able to 
understand pretty well just what the errand was, 
but I would prefer not to say more than I have said.” 
He stoops down and picking up a bit of stick beings 
whittling upon it with his penknife. The two girls, 
reflecting upon what he has said, look more serious 
and puzzled than ever, while Miss Carrington begins 
walking up and down the path in real distress. 

Miss Carrington , stopping at last and turning to 
Molyneux: “Alas! Alas! What shall we do ? Mr. 
Molyneux, what shall we do ? You are a man of 
experience in such things. Can you not advise us ? 
O, this is terrible ! We shall all be murdered in 
our beds and have everything we’ve got stolen from 
us.” 

Mr. Molyneux , decidedly, throwing down his stick 
and putting his knife in his pocket : “ I’ll tell you 
what we will do for the present, Miss Carrington. 
We will follow the advice you yourself gave and for- 
get all about them. I promise you that I will keep 
an eye on them and that no harm shall befall you. 
But now, let us go for our boat-ride. Come.” He 
leads the way and they all move off together. “ It 
is almost four already ; and we want to get home 
before six.” 


D ID you ever see a squirrel 

With his tail all in a whorl 
Up a tree? 

From his lofty point of view, dear, 
There’s no doubt he pities you, dear, 
You and me ! 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 

(A Comedy .) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


V. — THE EVENTS OF A NIGHT. 


MISS CARRINGTON and MOLYNEUX. 

I T is now nearly eleven o’clock, and the evening is 
warm and pleasant. Molyneux is on the piazza 
by himself, smoking as usual. What light there is 
comes from the hall door which stands open, and 
through the open windows of the parlor. From the 
latter room comes also the sound of music and 
laughter, both furnished by the young ladies who are 
by themselves at the piano. 

Miss Carrington, appearing in the hall door-way and 
presently discovering Mr. Molyneux : “ O, there you 
are, Mr. Molyneux. I was looking for you.” 

Molyneux, from the shadow : “ I am always to be 

found by this. Miss Carrington.” He puffs upon his 
cigarette so as to light up his face for an instant. 

Miss Carrington , sweetly: “O, one always knows 
where to find you, Mr. Molyneux.” She comes out to 
where he is sitting and, laying her hand on the back 
of a chair, adds, in a more serious tone : “ I wish 

I could say as much of our other gentlemen-boarders. 
Mr. Molyneux, I am quite sure they have some mis- 
chief on hand to-night. One of them has not been 
down at all this evening and the other — he calls 
himself Grosvenor, but nobody will ever make me 
believe that he is a Grosvenor! — he said he had a 
headache, and went up-stairs an hour ago. But he 
no more had a headache than / have. I know a 
headache when I see it.” 

Molyneux, gravely: “No honest person, certainly, 
would say he had a headache when he hadn’t.” 

Miss Carrington: “Certainly not! And I con- 
fess, I feel very anxious. Mr. Molyneux, I want you 
to do me a favor.” She now sits down beside him and 
lowers her voice almost to a whisper. “We have con- 
siderable valuable jewelry with us, Lillian and my- 
self — and Hope too for that matter — and some 
money. And I do not feel that it is safe or right for 
us to keep it by us, — especially to-night. I have a pre- 


sentiment that somebody is going to steal it. I want 
you to take charge of it. Will you ? I am sorry to 
trouble you, but I should feel ever so much better.” 

Molyneux: “Why, yes; of course I’ll do it if you 
wish it. But — hadn’t you better let Mr. Littlefield 
have it ? He is a — well, rather more of a responsible 
person than I seem to be.” 

Miss Ca?'ringto7i : “ Indeed, he is not ! I would 

trust you exactly as soon as I would him. And be- 
sides, I should have to explain all my feelings to 
him about these persons. No, I would much rather 
put them in your care if you will be so good.” 

Molyneux: “You are sure you can trust me, 

then?” He laughs pleasantly. “Well, I’ll take care 
of them if you really wish it. I have a revolver, and 
I don’t think they will rob me very easily.” 

Miss Carrington, with profound satisfaction : 
“Then I will get them together and bring them to 
your door, after we go up-stairs. What time is it, 
please ? ” 

Molyneux , looking at his watch by the light of his 
cigarette : “ It is now just four minutes of eleven.” 

Miss Carrington : “ Why ! I did not think it was 

so late. Those girls must be sent to bed at once.” 
She gets up again and goes in, Molyneux presently 
following. Shortly after this, the doors and win- 
dows are shut, the lights disappear from below 
stairs, and the house becomes quiet. 

ii. 

MISS CARRINGTON, LILLIAN a7ld HOPE. 

The present boarders at the Farm occupy rooms 
on the second floor and opening directly into the 
front upper-hall, — with the exception of Grosvenor 
and Mann who have been put in a room a flight 
farther up. Soon after all are supposed to be inside 
their rooms, Lillian and Hope reappear in the upper 
hall. They have changed their evening dresses for 
loose wrappers. They walk quietly toward the head 
of the stairs, — not so quietly however but that Miss 
Carrington’s alert ear detects their movements. 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


Miss Carrington, calling from within her room : 
“ Girls, what are you doing ? It is time you were 
abed and asleep.” 

Lillian , halting a moment : “ O, we are only going 
down-stairs a moment upon a foraging expedition. 
Hope and I are awfully hungry.” They are about 
to pass on. 

Miss Carrington, opening her door and speaking 
in a low voice : “ Girls, I don't feel safe to have all 

your jewelry lying around loose. I wish you would 
let me have that of it that is most valuable and I will 
keep it all together.” 

Lillian , in some surprise but carelessly, after a 
moment’s silence: “Very well, Aunt Carrie. You’ll 
find it all on the bureau there or in my jewel-box. I 
don’t know as there is is anything very valuable 
except my diamond bracelet and Hope’s breastpin. 
O, and the rings. You can go and get them, if you 
like. We’ve no objection, — have we, Hope?” 

Hope, already moving on : “ O, no indeed ! ” The 
two girls pass on down-stairs and Miss Carrington 
comes out of her own room and goes into theirs. 

hi. 

lillian and HOPE. 

The girls are seated at one end of the dining-room 
table. They have brought out from the pantry some 
cold chicken and bread and butter, a plate of dough- 
nuts, some pickles and a pitcher of milk, and are now 
making quite a repast and evidently enjoying it to 
the utmost. 

Lillian, laying down upon her plate the chicken-leg 
she has been busy with, and wiping her mouth and 
fingers: “One thing is certain. They haven’t left 
the house yet. I heard them close the door of their 
room just as we came out of ours. Hope, push me 
over that platter, please.” She examines the remains 
of the chicken, but apparently with no very satisfac- 
tory results. “ Dear me, why aren’t chickens made 
with four legs ? I wanted another drumstick. Well, I 
suppose I shall have to put up with the Pope’s nose.” 

Hope, holding up a pickle in one hand and a large 
doughnut in the other: “/ have graduated from 
chicken and gone on to the dessert. ‘Pickles at 
night, school-girls delight,’ you know. Yes, I should 
like to know whether they go out to-night or not. 
What do you say to keeping watch, Lillian ? ” 

Lillian: “O, dear, no. That would be too much 
trouble. If there was only a burglar-alarm, now, — 


on all the windows and doors, — they couldn’t get out 
without waking us.” 

Hope, laying down her pickle on the table and 
thoughtfully regarding her half-demolished doughnut : 
“I wonder if we couldn’t make a burglar alarm.” 
She reflects upon the idea a moment longer. Then sud- 
denly she jumps up with great energy. “ I have it, Lill 
— just it ! I know something that will wake us up. O, 
that will be capital! Just you wait a moment ” She 
dances off in the direction of the kitchen. Lillian 
sits waiting with no little curiosity ; and Hope pres- 



ently is heard coming back tugging apparently at 
some heavy or cumbersome burden, and thumping 
it against the doors and posts. The next moment 
she comes in again bringing with her a huge tin 
wash-boiler with a copper bottom. She looks ex- 
tremely comical as she halts before her friend hold- 
ing this formidable object up before her and with the 
half-consumed doughnut (for want of ability to carry 
it otherwise) tightly grasped between her teeth. 

Lillian, laughing heartily: “What in the name of 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


the seven wonders are you going to do with that ? ” 

Hope , setting the boiler down and taking her 
doughnut in her hand again: “That is my burglar- 
alarm. Don’t you think that will wake us?” She 
laughs too. 

Lillian: “Yes, if you can only get them to drum 
upon it with their boots when they go down-stairs.” 

Hope, more soberly: “That is precisely what I 
mean to have them do. I am going to set this 
boiler right across the head of the stairs, so that 
when they come down they will run into it in the 
dark, and it will go bangitty-bang down-stairs. 
Don’t you think that will do for an alarm?” She 
looks at her friend exultantly. 

Lillian , comprehending now and fully appreciating 
the scheme: “Indeed it will! It will be just splen- 
did ! ” She claps her hands together. Then, more 
doubtfully: “But they won’t fall over it, will they? — 
and tumble down bangitty-bang themselves?” 

Hope, indifferently: “O, no. We will place it 
right on the edge of the landing, so that the least 
touch will start it off. Besides, it’s no great harm if 
they did. It would make all the more noise. Come, 
you’ve eaten enough. Let’s go and arrange it. Your 
aunt has gotten to bed by this time, I trust. You 
must take hold with me.” She grasps one of the 
handles of the boiler with one hand, taking the lamp 
in the other; and, Lillian taking hold of the other 
end of the huge vessel, they march off with great 
pomp. 

IV. 

GERALD and RICHARD. 

It is now ten minutes of twelve, and the house 
seems to be at last permanently quiet. The two 
boys, for the third time to-night, cautiously open the 
door of their room and prepare to descend. They 
certainly at this moment look as much like “robbers” 
as any genuine members of the profession could do. 
They are dressed in their “old clothes,” with heavy 
jack-boots on their feet, and soft, slouching black 
hats on their heads. Gerald carries in his hand a 
small bull’s-eye lantern, ready-lighted. 

Richard, who is leading the way down the stairs, 
turning back when half-way down and raising his 
hand : “Sh! Put that lantern in your pocket, Grove. 
There’s a light under the old lady’s door. I wonder 
if she will ever go to bed.” He of course says all 
this in a whisper. 

Gerald, turning off the light and putting the lan- 


tern into his side pocket: “All right. But go ahead; 
I’m not going to stop again, not if they’re all out 
there on the stairs sitting along in a row.” They 
continue their way, passing Miss Carrington’s door, 
under which a light is still visible, with breathless 
caution, and proceeding on tip-toe a few steps 
farther to the head of the lower flight of stairs. All 
at once, a quick, loud thump is heard as Richard’s 
boot comes heavily in contact with the boiler, and 
then there follows instantly, doubly dismaying and 
mysterious as it breaks upon the perfect silence of 
midnight, a tremendous and astounding din, as Miss 
Hope’s novel “burglar-alarm” goes bounding and 
crashing down the stairs. In another moment, of 
course, the noise itself is over though its ringing and 
resounding outlast it for several seconds. During 
that moment, Richard has turned back and grasped 
the arm of his companion. They stand an instant 
perfectly motionless. 

Richard, in a voice of suppressed horror : “ Great 
Griddlecakes ! What in Passamaquoddy — ” He 
stops abruptly. There is a stir in Miss Carrington’s 
room, and the sound of a step crossing the floor. 
There are movements too and the sound of voices in 
the other rooms. 

Gerald, in a swift whisper, his lips close to his 
friend’s ear. “We’ve got to scatter, Rich. Quick! 
Quick! Somebody is coming ! ” He gives Richard 
a push. “Out toward the front window, there. 
There’s a niche in the wall.” They hurriedly grope 
their way along the banister, and bestow themselves 
within a recess that is at the front end of the hall, 
just as Miss Carrington’s door opens. 

v. 

MISS CARRINGTON, LILLIAN, HOPE and MOLYNEUX. 

Just as Miss Carrington appears, the two girls 
come out of their room, (which is diagonally opposite) 
and a moment later Molyneux appears from his. 
None of them evidently have yet prepared for bed. 
Miss Carrington seems to be thoroughly alarmed by 
the strange noise. Molyneux, on the other hand, 
appears as cool as though he knew all about it. The 
girls are laughing at one moment and professing 
the extremest wonder and terror at the next. 

Miss Carri?igton: “What could it have been ! ” She 
holds aloft her candle — it is against her princi- 
ples to carry a glass-lamp about the house — and 
peers anxiously around. 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 



Molyneux , his hands in 
his pockets, and with a 
yawn which, considering 
the lateness of the hour, 
he does not feel called 
upon to conceal: “ It 
sounded like a parlor 
thunder-storm. I wonder 
it didn’t wake up the 
whole house. Mr. and 
Mrs. Littlefield are both 
deaf though.” 

Hope, wringing her 
hands: “O, where are 
they? They have broken 
into the house, I know 
they have. It sounded, 
just like it always does 

when they break into houses.” She looks up 
and down the hall as if expecting to catch sight of 
a squad of burglars. Then she adds aside to Lillian : 
“ Where did they run to, so quick? They certainly 
didn’t have time to get up or down stairs. We came 
out almost instantly.” 

Lillian , in the same tone to Hope : “ I don’t know, 
I’m sure. It seems as though they must be close at 
hand.” Then aloud to Molyneux: “O, Mr. Moly- 
neux, do you suppose it is really robbers? Won’t 
you please look irv that cupboard there ? ” She 
points to a movable clothes-press that stands close 
to the wall not far from the top of the stairs. 
Molyneux, without a word, flings open the door of this 
and the ladies peer anxiously within. But it contains 
nothing but empty dresses. 

Hope , in a tone of disappointment: “They’re not 
there, are they ? ” Then again in an undertone to Lil- 
lian : “ They must have slipped down the back stairs. 
They are off by this time. And we didn’t catch 
them after all.” This last in a tone of infinite regret. 

Molyneux , standing at the head of the stairs, sud- 
denly bursting out laughing and pointing down be- 
low : “ Ha ! ha ! ha ! There are your burglars, 

Miss Harriman. Miss Carrington, I think it will 
allay your alarm to take a look down there.” 

They all hasten to his side, and peering down, 'the 
tin boiler is distinctly seen lying at the foot of the 
stairs. It is, quite evidently, the cause of all the 
disturbance. 

Miss Carrington, with an expression of combined 
relief and wonder : “ Sure enough. But how did it 


am sure.” She looks appealingly at them both. 


A" 


“ha! ha! ha! there are your burglars!" 


come there ? Somebody must have 
thrown it down-stairs.” She casts a 
look of quick suspicion upon the girls. 
They are both of them laughing. “ Ah ! ” 
She assumes at once an air and tone of 
great severity: “Lillian, — Hope, this is 
another of your silly jokes. You threw 
it down-stairs on purpose to frighten me.” 

Lillian, still laughing : “ Well, aunt, 

we may as well acknowledge it. We 
only did it for fun. Was it so 
very wicked ? You’ll forgive us, 
won’t you ? 

Mr. Moly- 
neux will, I 



NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


Molyheux : “ Oh, yes; I don’t mind. I guess I’ll 

go back to my room, though, since the mystery is 
solved.” He turns away with another yawn. 

Miss Carrington : “Wait one moment, Mr. Moly- 
neux, please.” Then, very sternly, to the young 
ladies : “ Girls, I desire you to go to bed at once ; 
and in future I beg you will have the good taste to 
abstain from such childish games as this.” The girls, 
their merriment scarcely abated, go back to their 
room together, and Miss Carrington addresses Moly- 
neux in a low tone : “ Mr. Molyneux, I will bring you 
those valuables at once. I have just got them ready. 
It has taken me some little time. I will bring them 
to you in a moment.” 

Molyneux , politely : “ Oh, very well, Miss Carring- 
ton. But don’t hurry. I have been sitting in the 
dark and smoking. Any time, any time.” 

He saunters away, and both once more disappear 
in their rooms. 

VI. 

GERALD, RICHARD and MISS CARRINGTON. 

The moment the hall is entirely dark and still 
again, Gerald and Richard come forth from their 
hiding-place and once more grope their way softly 
toward the head of the stairs, anxious to get out of 
the house as soon as possible. They are just oppo- 
site the clothes-press before mentioned, and perhaps 
six feet from Miss Carrington’s door, when, to their 
instant and great consternation, the latch of that door 
is again heard to move and the door opens. There 
is, this time, no opportunity to flee to the niche at the 
end of the hall, nor to any other secure hiding-place. 
What they do is done in obedience to a sort of in- 
stinct rather than by any calculation. The light 
shining out as the door is opened shows to them 
dimly the clothes-press on the one side and the hall- 
table on the other. Gerald darts instantly behind 
the end of the clothes-press while Richard drops as 
quickly upon his knees and crawls under the table. 
Miss Carrington slowly opens the door, not dreaming 
of their vicinity. She has still her candle in one 
hand, and in the other a moderate-sized, flat paste- 
board box, around which, with spinster-like care, she 
has wound several yards of twine. She is examining 
the knot as she comes out, and therefore has not 
moved very swiftly. But now, with a quickened step, 
she takes the direction of Mr. Molyneux’s door. To 
reach it she is obliged to pass directly by the clothes- 


press. Gerald, as he hears her approach, draws 
himself up into the corner until he occupies scarcely 
more space, one would think, than a cane standing 
there might do. Miss Carrington advances, looking 
straight before her. How it is that, as she gets 
almost by him, she becomes aware of his presence it 
is impossible to say. He certainly does not draw a 
breath or move a hair’s-breadth at that moment. But 
suddenly she gives a start and turns her head. Even 
before she does so he, with his strained eyes closely 
watching her, feels that she is going to do it ; and 
with a sudden audacious impulse he bends forward 
and with one well-directed puff blows out the light. 
It is all done so quickly that he is uncertain whether 
she has seen him of not. She utters at the same in- 
stant a piercing scream and turns in the darkness to 
rush back to her room. 

Gerald, , stooping down and calling out in a distinct 
whisper to his friend : “ Come on, Rich ! Now’s 

your time ! Down the stairs quick ! ” 

Richard is already half-way out from under the 
table. In rising to his feet, as Gerald speaks, he 
comes abruptly and forcibly in contact with Miss 
Carrington. That lady, hardly knowing what she 
does, throws her arms suddenly around him and 
clasps him tight, uttering shriek after shriek. At the 
same instant, Mr. Molyneux’s door opens and his 
voice is heard. He has no lamp. Richard mutters 
some desperate exclamation and struggles violently 
to free himself. Miss Carrington holds him tight, 
however, and in the struggle they come to the floor 
together. Then the lad, finding himself suddenly 
released, picks himself quickly up and darts down 
the stairway after his friend. 

VII. 

MISS CARRINGTON, molyneux, and presently lillian 
and hope. 

Almost at the same instant Molyneux reaches the 
spot nearly falling over Miss Carrington in the dark- 
ness. 

Molyneux : “ Why, what is all this ? Calm yourself, 
Miss Carrington. I am here.” He stoops down and 
helps her to her feet, she still panting and moaning. 

Miss Carrington , seizing his arm and gasping : 
“ The box ! the box ! They have made their escape 
and taken it with them. One of them took it from me 
by main force. O, what shall I do ! wliat shall I do ! 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


Ugh, those horrid burglars!” Then with more calm- 
ness: “Mr. Molyneux, doget alight.” He starts back to 
his room. In doing so his foot encounters some object 
lying upon the floor. He stoops and takes it up and 
comprehends instantly that it is the box. Without a 
word he goes quickly on to his room. As he returns, 
a moment later, with a lighted lamp, Lillian and Hope 
also appear. Miss Carrington looks eagerly about 
the floor. “ No,” she cries wildly, “ they have gone 
off with it. Lillian, I’m afraid you will never forgive 
me — nor you, Hope, either. The bracelet and 
Hope’s pin and all the things, with my money, were 
in it.” Then, as if she has something with which to 
justify and console herself after all : “ It is just as I 
told you at any rate. You wouldn’t believe me when 
I said that those two persons were professional 
thieves, — and now they’ve proved it.” 

Lillian , in dismay : “ Do you mean to say, Aunt, 


that those boys have really gone off with my brace- 
let and the rest of the things ? ” 

Miss Carrington, now almost with triumph: “Yes; 
gone off with them this very minute, almost.” 

Hope , practically : “But if they have only gone this 
minute, they can be caught. Mr. Molyneux, why 
don’t you do something ? Let us call Mr. Littlefield 
at once.” 

Molyneux: “To be sure.” He takes out his 
watch. “ It is now twenty minutes past twelve. 
There’s a train goes through Littleton at half-past 
two. They will make for that, you may depend. 
I’ll go and wake Andrew, and we’ll drive over there 
and head ’em off. You’d better speak to Mr. Little- 
field and he can go down to Squire Orton’s. O, 
we’ll catch ’em some how. They never can get away 
in the world.” He goes back cheerfully to his room. 



(JETTING OUT BOWLDERS, 



NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 

( A Comedy . ) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


VI. — ALL QUESTIONS ANSWERED. 


MISS CARRINGTON, LILLIAN, HOPE and MR. LITTLE- 
FIELD. 

I T is between half-past six and seven the next 
morning. The sun is shining brightly and the 
grass before the house glistens with dew. Miss Car- 
rington and the young ladies have stepped out upon 
the front piazza, hearing the sound of wheels coming 
down the drive. Mr. Littlefield has just driven up to 
the end of the piazza and giving the horse in charge of 
one of the men, now comes up the piazza steps. He 
looks worried and jaded. The ladies too have not 
their usual fresh appearance although they are neatly 
dressed in morning costume. 

Mr. Littlefield, , eagerly : “ Well, is there any news ? 
Did Molyneux find them at the depot ? Where are 
they ? ” He pauses, out of breath with his own ques- 
tions ; but the only answer to them is a distinct look of 
disappointment on the faces of the ladies themselves. 
“ Why,” he adds, “haven't you any news?” 

Hope : “ We thought you would bring the news. 

You are the first one who has come back.” 

Mr. Littlefield , his countenance falling: “Hasn’t 
Mr. Molyneux come back ? ” 

Lillian : “ No, Mr. Littlefield. And we haven’t 

heard a word from him.” 

Mr. Littlefield : “ Dear, dear ! What can have be- 

come of him ? He ought to have been back long 
ago. I expected to find him here with both those 
young rascals in his hands. Ramsdill and I have 
scoured the whole country the other way. But we 
haven’t found the slightest trace. Mr. Leach was off 
on other business when I got down to Squire Orton’s, 
or we should have had him out looking too. And 
now, if Molyneux don’t catch them, I’m afraid they 
will get off altogether. Why, they must have gone to 
Littleton. There was no other way for ’em to get off. 


He’ll be back with ’em soon, you may depend upon 
it. Have you had your breakfast ? No ? Then we 
will sit down at once.” He moves to go in and then 
halts and looks toward the road. “ Ah ! I know that 
horse. It is Leach himself, I declare. Who has he 
got with him ?•” 

Lillian, almost screaming and with a face seeming 
to betray half a dozen different emotions at once : “ I 
do believe it is Mr. Grosvenor ! Oh, dear ! They 
have got him.” 

Hope , excitedly : “ So they have. But where is 

the other one, Mr. Mann ? There are only two per- 
sons in the wagon.” 

They all stand intently waiting for the vehicle, 
which has now turned down the drive, to draw near. 

ii 

The same with mr. leach and gerald. 

The constable’s wagon stops at the end of the 
piazza and its occupants look up at the group, though 
neither get out. Mr. Littlefield advances followed at 
a slight interval by the two girls and then by Miss 
Carrington. The latter has become very stiff and 
haughty again at sight of Gerald. Hope and Lillian 
regard him rather shyly, not exactly certain what is 
required of them by the etiquette of the occasion. 
Gerald himself, not handcuffed, to be sure, but none 
the less evidently a prisoner, sits turned toward them, 
one leg thrown easily over the end of the seat and 
his boot resting on the wheel. He is smiling and un- 
abashed as usual. Indeed, he looks the freshest and 
most unconcerned of them all. 

Mr. Leach: “Wall, Mist’ Littlefield, I’ve got a 
pris’n’r here ’s wants t’ see you.” Mr. Leach is a 
great hand to clip his words. 

Mr. Littlefield: “ Bless my soul ! I can scarcely 
realize it, yet. They’re nothing but boys. Well, I’m 
very glad you have got him. Where did you catch 
him ? and where is the other one ? ” 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


Leach: “Why, I cotched him down t’ th’ pond, t’ 
be sure. Sink Hotchkiss ’n’ me, we laid wait f’r ’em 
an’ w’en they come ’shore, we jest nabbed ’em. 
Leastways, I nabbed this un. Sink, he didn’t nab 
hisn art’r all. The young feller, soon ’s he see us, 
he sorter drapped his head ’n’ run at Sink like a 
young darkey ram, ’n’ butted him clean int’ th’ bushes 
’t a single go. Howsumdever, ’t don’t make no great 
diff’runce even ’f we don’t git tother one. This one 
’ll only have th’ hull fine t’ pay, that’s all. They 
cotched ’bout thirty fish — las’ night ’n’ night ’fore 


speaks directly to Mr. Littlefield, and with the same 
winning smile and manner that had overcome the old 
gentleman on the day of the boys’ arrival : “ Mr. 
Littlefield, I’ve got to ask you to help me out of a 
scrape. I want you to be responsible for me for an 
hour or two, until I can telephone to my brother. 
He lives out at Auburndale, and don’t get in town 
till between nine and ten. They are willing to let 
me go if you will make yourself responsible for my 
reappearance. They’re going to try me this after- 
noon, I believe. But I give you my word, I won’t 



THE CONSTABLE ARRIVES WITH HIS PRISONER. 


last. That’ll net th’ town quite a pile — a hund’erd 
V fifty dollars ’n’ costs. I s’pose Sink Hotchkiss ’ll 
git harf on’t, though.” 

Gerald, who has listened long enough : “ Well, 

we have had our fun, and we’re willing to pay for 
it. It’s an exorbitant price, though — five dollars for 
every fish. But that is the way you country people 
get your living — by cheating city people out of their 
eyes. You are glad to have us come here and 
fish, if we will only get caught at it.” Then he 


run away. I only want to get a decent breakfast, 
and change my clothes.” 

Mr. Littlefield, who, with the ladies also, has been 
listening to all this without comprehending it: “But, 
sir — but, Mr. Leach, I don’t understand. What is 
it that you suppose this young man has been doing ? 
What have you arrested him for ? ” 

Leach : “ Fori For fishing in Random Pond 

agin th’ law. What d’ye s’pose I ’rested him for?” 

Mr. Littlefield, with much stammering and hesita- 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED . 


tion, for this is disagreeable business to him : “ I’m 

afraid he has been doing something a good deal 
worse than that. Some valuable jewelry was stolen 
from this house during the night, and under circum- 
stances that — that make it quite certain that this lad 
and his companion were the thieves.” 

Gerald , his manner betraying more surprise than 
alarm : “ What ! ” He suddenly jumps down from 

the wagon and seizes Mr. Littlefield by the arm. 
That gentleman starts back, and the ladies retreat 
together several steps. “ Do you mean to say that 
anything was stolen last night. What time of night 
was it ? ” 

Mr. Littlefield: “ It was about twelve o’clock — at 
the time when you and your friend were prowling 
about the upper hall.” 

Gerald, suddenly removing his hand from the 
other’s arm and looking around: “Where is that — 
Molyneux ? ” he demands sternly. “ Is he gone ? ” 

Hope, unable to keep out of the discussion any 
longer : “ He went over to Littleton at half-past 

twelve, to intercept you.” 

Gerald, looking at her, and then at them all, and 
slowly putting things together in his mind : “ Well, 

you have done it, among you. Why, what are you 
thinking of, all of you ? We haven’t taken your 
jewelry. That is perfect folly; and it will be easy 
enough to show it. It is that fellow, Molyneux ! 
He has got it, you may depend. And he is probably 
well off with it before this. By Jove ! It is too bad ! 
Did he get your bracelet, Miss Home ? ” 

Lillian, answering rather reluctantly : “ Why, yes, 

my bracelet went with the rest.” 

Gerald, curtly : “ Well, you won’t get it back this 

time by advertising for it.” 

Mr. Littlefield, pretty well mixed up now as to the 
whole matter : “ But — eh ? — How is this ? What 

do you mean ? Mr. Molyneux the thief ? ” 

He looks distractedly from Gerald to the rest. 

Miss Carrington, coming forward with an air of de- 
cision : “ Mr. Littlefield, do not you allow yourself 

to be deceived in any such way. This person has 
plenty of assurance and plausibility ; but, fortunately, 
I have had dealings with him before. He and his 
friend are the same persons who, one year ago, stole 
Lillian’s bracelet and returned it on the offer of a 
large reward with no questions asked. As for Mr. 
Molyneux, he is a perfectly honest and upright gen- 
tleman ” — 

Lillian, suddenly : “ Why, here is Mr. Molyneux 


himself. And, I do believe — yes, and Mr. Mann 
with him.” 

They all turn to look toward a second wagon which 
is coming rapidly down the drive. There are three 
people on the seat, Richard Mann, a stout stranger, 
and Mr. Molyneux between them. Andrew is sitting 
on the edge of the wagon behind. 

hi. 

The same with richard mann, molyneux and Mr. 

MUNDY. 

Richard, standing up and swinging his hat around 
his head as they draw up : “ Hurrah ! hurrah ! I’ve 

got him — snug as a bug in a rug ! ” 

He motions with his head toward Molyneux, who, 
as is now to be seen, has a pair of handcuffs on his 
wrists. Richard leaps to the ground and approaches 
the group on the piazza. Mr. Littlefield looks more 
troubled and bewildered than ever. Miss Carrington 
is suddenly as one dazed. The two girls, beginning 
to see how things really are, await further develop- 
ments with decided interest. 

Mr. Littlefield, in genuine distress : “ What does it 

all mean ? ” 

Richard, flushed with excitement and success • 
“ It means, sir, that I’ve got the rascal. It was all by 
the merest chance. I met Andrew coming back 
alone from Littleton and he told me the whole storv. 
Molyneux, it seems, had taken the train to Boston, 
giving Andrew some reason or other. I made him 
drive me right back to Littleton. I was going to 
telegraph into town and have him stopped. But just 
as we got there, the train from town (that had met 
the other one over at East Chester) came in, and 
who should I see in the smoker but Molyneux him- 
self. There was a night-policeman in the station and 
we just piled into the car and collared him, and here 
he is.” Richard pauses and looks around, quite sen- 
sible of the growing admiration with which the ladies 
regard him. Indeed, he is so proud of himself just 
now that he quite forgets to be bashful. Then, with 
great ceremony, he waves his hand toward the 
wagon : “ Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to intro- 
duce to you the accomplished Mr. Molyneux, son 
and heir of the celebrated railroad president, Mr. 
Jacob Molyneux.” And he adds in an undertone ; 
“ I'll teach him to pretend that he is my cousin ! ” 

Mr. Molyneux, bowing as politely and imperturba- 


NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


bly as ever in response to this introduction : “ Good- 
morning, ladies. I regret to say that my young 
friend has got the better of me. He deserves all 
credit, and he shall have it. You see, I appear at a 
slight disadvantage.” 

He holds up his manacles. 

Hope, with spirit: “ You seem to have acquired a 
pair of bracelets of your own, Mr. Molyneux. I 
hope, then, that you have brought back Lillian’s. 
You apparently will not need it.” 

Molyfieux , with a flash of genuineness : “ Confound 
her bracelet ! I wish I had never seen it ! I stole it 
once and lost it ; and now I’ve stolen it again and 
got caught at it.” 

Richard: “ Oh, yes ; we’ve got the bracelet all 
right, Miss Harriman, and all the rest of the things, 
I guess. Mundy,” — to the Littleton constable — 


bestows now upon Richard a look of tender interest. 
Her opinion of him has evidently undergone a con- 
siderable modification during the last few minutes. 
“And are you really a nephew of Mr. Jacob 
Molyneux? And is that person — ” she turns and 
flashes upon Molyneux a look of bitter scorn and de- 
testation through her gold-mounted eyeglasses — “is 
he a thief and imposter? Who would have thought it ! 
Well ” — again turning to Richard and then to Gros- 
venor, and giving frankly a hand to each — “you 
brought back the bracelet before and you have 
brought it back now. And it seems that it was he 
who stole it before. It is perfectly wonderful ! — 
perfectly wonderful ! ” She stands and looks at the 
box in her hand as though still quite unable to realize 
it all. 

Gerald ’ grasping his friend’s hand : “ Rich, you’re 



GOING “ HOOKING.” 


“ throw me that box, will you ? ” Mr. Mundy tosses 
him the pasteboard box that had been lost the night 
before. Miss Carrington, who has until now been 
standing in grim silence, not knowing exactly what to 
do and say, starts forward at the sight of it with 
an exclamation of delight. Richard hands it to her. 
“ You will find ’em all there, I think, madam. We 
opened it just to make sure. We found it on him, 
tucked up under his vest just like I used to tuck my 
geography.” 

Miss Carrmgton , bowing graciously as she takes 
the box, her good nature almost restored by its 
recovery. “ Thank you ! ” She opens the box and 
examines its contents a moment. “Ah, yes! They 
are all here.” She hands Lillian her bracelet. 
“How can we ever thank you for this, sir?” She 


a brick ! — a brick of the first water ! ” he continued. 

Hope , also seizing Richard’s hand and gayly imita- 
ting Gerald’s manner: “Yes, you are a jewel, Mr. 
Mann, — a jewel of the first water! ” 

Lillian , in turn following suit : “ Indeed you are, 
Mr. Mann — a perfect jewel, an opal set with dia- 
monds ! 1 declare you deserve to keep the bracelet, 

and I certainly deserve to lose it.” 

Richard , seriously: “Oh, I don’t wish for any 
reward, Miss Home.” 

Gerald, bursting out laughing at his friend’s matter- 
of-factedness : “No, Miss Lillian, Rich don’t claim 
any reward, not even the three hundred dollars. And 
you may ask him as many questions as you please.” 

Mr. Leach , breaking in upon them impatiently: 
“ Sorry t’ int’rupt ye, but I’ve got other fish t’ fry ’n’ 



NO QUESTIONS ASKED. 


must be goin’. What’s t’ be clone ’bout these boys. 
1 s’pose I’ll have t’ ’rest 'em both ’n’ take ’em t’ th’ 
lockup ’nless you’ll go bail f’r ’em, Mist’ Littlefield.” 

Miss Carrington, instantly : “ I will go bail for 
them — if that’s what you call it.” 

Mr. Littlefield: “ Oh, there will be no need of that, 
Miss Carrington. I will be responsible, of course. 
I am always responsible for my boarders.” 

Miss Carrmgton imperiously : “ But I choose to do it, 
Mr. Littlefield. They are perfectly respectable and 
reliable young men and I have not the slightest fear 
of their running away.” She smiles upon them com- 
placently. 

Gerald, to Mr. Leach: “Well, it will be all right 
anyway. I’ll go up and telephone to my brother 
after breakfast, and the fines and all shall be paid at 
once. You needn’t worry about us. We have had 
our money’s worth I guess, put it all together.” 

Richard, joining in : “ But you’d better look out for 
that fellow,” indicating Molyneux. “ He’s as slippery 


as quicksilver. It won’t do to have him stealing any 
more bracelets.” 

Lillian, positively : “ If he gets a chance to steal 
mine again, he may certainly keep it this time.” 

Gerald, laughingly: “And no questions asked?” 

Hope, mischievously to Miss Carrington : “ Miss 
Carrington, what do you think of these two ‘ persons ’ 
now?” 

Miss Carrington, good-humoredly: “ I think just as 
I did in the first place — that they are the identical 
persons who brought back Lillian’s bracelet.” 

Hope , roguishly: “They certainly look like robbers.” 

Richard, a little savagely: “I am hungry enough to 
rob a hen-roost and eat the plunder raw.” 

Miss Carringtoii , with quick sympathy: “You poor 
boys ! You shall come in, both of you, and have 
some breakfast at once.” She takes an arm of each 
of the boys and they all go in. The wagons are 
already moving away. 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 

(A Comedy.) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


{The Scene is , all through, at or near the Pigwacket 
House.) 

I.— A HIGHWAY ROBBERY. 

i. 

Fanny Meserole and Gertrude Emmons. 

T HE Pigwacket House is a hotel that is hap- 
pened upon as, soon after leaving Conway, 
one makes one’s way northward among the White 
Mountains by an unfrequented road. It is a modest- 
looking structure, very much like the tavern of a 
country village ; and from its piazza one looks straight 
up the Pigwacket valley between rugged precipices 
and rolling hills toward Pigwacket itself, a grand old 
mountain ten miles away. Down the valley, all the 
summer long, the Pigwacket river makes its narrow 
way, angry and turbulent above, but here, where it 
threads the deep ravine near the hotel, laughing and 
making merry as it hurries on to the village. Spanning 
this ravine just opposite the house, there is a rough 
wooden bridge across which somewhere about six 
o’clock on a certain August evening, two young girls 
are seen to come. They are dressed in becoming 
mountain costume, suits of dark flannel stylishly cut, 
the dresses made short, showing the trim ecru walk- 
ing shoes beneath. On their heads are crimson 
Tam o’ Shanters worn carelessly and comfortably. 
The girls thus similarly dressed look enough alike 
to be sisters, and are, in fact, cousins. They seem 
tired, and one of them at least, “ out of sorts,” as 
they cross the road and come up on the piazza. 

Gertrude, dropping into one of the numerous chairs 
scattered about : “ Dear me ! How hot it is ! ” 

She takes off her cap and uses it vigorously, but 
rather ineffectually, as a fan. “There doesn’t seem 
to be anybody about. We are ‘ monarchs of all we 
survey.’ ” 

Fanny, with energy : “ ‘ Monarchs of all we sur- 

vey ! ’ Who was it said that ? Robinson Crusoe, 
wasn’t it, when he was on his desert island ? Well, 


he wasn’t half so badly off as we are. There aren’t 
even savages here to keep us company. For my part, 
I am tired to death of this everlasting solitude ! ” 

Gertrude, sighing gently : “ But here we are ; and 
here I suppose we shall remain until aunt Evelyn hears 
of another place that is good for hay fever. You might 
as well resign yourself to your fate, Fanny, and sit 
down here and admire the view.” 

Fanny, with exasperated irony : “ Oh, the view / 

Such a beautiiul view ! Such a wonderful view ! ” 
Then, stamping her foot: “No, I’ll not admire the 
view ! I hate the view ! I’ll never look at it again ! 
I turn my back upon it forever.” She marches to 
the piazza railing and seats herself resolutely thereon, 
facing her cousin, leaning against a post and bal- 
ancing herself, not very elegantly, by means of one 
foot and the alpenstock of her parasol. 

Gertrude, soothingly: “There, there, dear, don’t 
get excited about it. It is terribly dull here, of 
course ; but we ought to be willing to bear it, if it is 
better for aunt Evelyn. She does suffer dreadfully, 
poor thing ! She can hardly see out of her eyes, and 
she sneezed two hundred and thirteen times yester- 
day between noon and night. Andrews kept ac- 
count on a piece of paper.” 

Fanny : “ But it isn't better for aunt Evelyn, else 

why don’t she stop sneezing ? Everybody knows that 
Bethlehem and Jefferson are the best places in the 
world for hay fever. And we should have gone to one 
or the other and never heard of this dreadful place, 
if it had not been for that odious Mrs. Tremayne 
whom we met at Sharon.” She changes her position 
slightly, and spitefully attacks the toe of her boot 
with the spike of her parasol. 

Gertrude, at length absently changing the subject 
of conversation : “ Aunt Evelyn and Andrews won’t 

be back before seven, I suppose. They’ve gone 
down to the village with Jared.” 

Fanny: “ Have they gone down to the village ? I 
didn’t know.” 

Gertrude: “At least aunt Evelyn said they should 
go. And they don’t seem to be about.” 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR . 



Fanny , with her former dissatisfaction : “ Then 

of course Mr. Muggs will wait supper for them ; 
they constitute just half his present number of 
boarders. Oh, how I do love to stay at these large 
hotels ! ” She fiercely renews the attack upon her boot. 
“Well” — more resignedly — “we have another hour 
before us. What shall we do with ourselves ? I would 
go up and dress, only there is no one to dress for. 
Gertrude, hand me that Echo , please.” She lazily 
points with her parasol to a paper 
lying in one of the chairs. Ger- 
trude takes it and places it on the 
end of the parasol, and Fanny thus 
gains possession of it. She opens 
it, glancing indifferently over its 
middle pages. 

“ It is pleasant to know that 
other people are where they can 
enjoy themselves, at any rate. 

Just look at the crowds of people 
that are registered at Bethlehem ! 

There are three columns at ‘ Ma- 
plewood ’ alone — the Aschams, 
and Pulsifers, and lots of them.” 

She lingers over the page a mo- 
ment with envious discontent. 

Then with a sudden contempt- 
uous readjustment of the paper: 

“ And then look at our list ! ” She 
reads aloud, interpolating freely 
as she does so. “‘Pigwacket 
House ! ’ (Oh, how I do love the 
sweet sound of that name!) 

Abimelech V. Muggs (another 
happy combination of sounds) 
proprietor. See advertisement on 
another page. (Humph!) Guests: 

Mrs. Evelyji Okie , Miss Sarah 
Andrewes — Well, if that isn’t just 
like his ‘ down east ’ impudence ! 

He has put Andrewes down just 
as though she was one of his guests like the rest 
of us. She was registered simply Nurse. I wrote 
the names myself. He did that just to make his list 
larger. — Miss Gertrude Emmons , Miss Ean?iy Mese- 
rolel There! There’s a list for you! A noble army 
of martyrs, truly ! ” 

Gertrude : “ But Fanny, there’ll be more of us next 

week. Mr. Muggs has had eleven new applications.” 

Fanny , contemptuously: “Oh, yes! Applications! 


He is forever having applications, but that is all it 
amounts to. And if they do come, what kind of peo- 
ple can they be to come here ? At best they will all 
have hay fever and will do nothing but sneeze from 
morning till night. It will be worse than that country 
I’ve read about — China, Oshkosh, or some place 
where every time the emperor sneezes the people all 
have to sneeze too. O Gertrude dear, isn’t there any 
way we can persuade aunt Evelyn to leave here?” 


“WE WILL HAVE A ROBBERY OF OUR OWN ! ” SAID FANNY. 


Gertrude, shaking her head : “ I never knew any- 
body to persuade aunt Evelyn to do anything. 

Fanny : “Well, then, isn’t there any way to compel 
her to leave here ? ” 

Gertrude, shaking her head : “ I don’t think I ever 
knew anybody to compel aunt Evelyn to anything.” 

Fan?iy : “ Oh, dear ! I wish we could. I am sure there 
must be some way if we only knew what it was.” S he 
sinks back into an attitude of listless despondency, 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


her eyes again falling on the paper. Presently some- 
thing therein arrests her attention. “Gertrude, here 
is something more about that Bar Harbor robbery.” 

Gertrude , carelessly: “What Bar Harbor robbery? 
I don’t remember.” 

Fcuiny : “ Why, yes you do. Don’t you know, they 
were talking about it the other night at Conway — 
how a party of ladies and gentlemen were riding along 
on a buck-board, or something, and were stopped by a 
highwayman with pistols, and compelled to give up 
their watches and money. They lost over a thousand 
dollars altogether, I believe.” 

Gertrude : “ Oh yes, I do remember, now. What is 
it about it, more ? Have they caught the robbers ? ” 

Fanny: “No — I don’t know. Let’s see.” She 
raises the paper. “ It’s only a short paragraph. ‘ Bar 
Harbor, Maine, Aug. 7th. Excitement still runs 
high here with regard to the recent robbery. The 
man arrested at Green Landing has been released, and 
the detectives are now watching another person. The 
guests and cottagers are greatly disturbed over the 
event, and not a few are making preparations to leave, 
regarding the place as unsafe.’ Ah ! ” She lowers 
the paper and looks up with animation, as though a 
new and valuable idea had suddenly suggested itself. 

Gertrude , whose eyes are resting dreamily on the 
distant mountain : “ It is very exciting, isn’t it ? 
What a pity we could not have a highway robbery 
here, just to keep us from going to sleep.” 

Fanny , flinging down the paper and starting to, her 
feet : “ And that is just what we will have, Gertrude 
Emmons. It is just what we have been trying to 
think of. We will have a highway robbery here, 
now, this very night ! ” 

Gertrude, gazing at her friend in wonder : “ This 

very night ! A robbery ! What do you mean, Fanny ? ” 

Fanny : “ I mean just what I say. We will have 

a robbery of our own, and frighten aunt Evelyn into 
leaving this horrible place.” She stands looking 
down at Gertrude with growing excitement as the 
idea she has conceived swiftly develops itself in her 
mind. “ Why, don’t you see ? ” She is now quite a 
different person from the homesick, complaining 
young lady of a few minutes ago. Her cheeks flush, 
and her eyes are dancing with mischief and delight. 
“ We will be the robbers, you and I. We will dress 
ourselves up in the most approved robber fashion 
and waylay them — Jared and aunt Evelyn and An- 
drewes — as they come up the hill. There’s a capi- 
tal place a short distance below here ; and it will be 


so dark that they can’t possibly tell. Oh, won’t it be 
jolly!” She claps her hands together and regards 
her companion with ecstacy. “ Come ! We must 
go in and get ready at once.” She exchanges glances 
with a tiny watch hanging at her belt. “ It is ten 
minutes after six already. We have no time to lose. 
Come, come ! ” She seizes the other by the arm. 

Gertrude , rising, but holding back, evidently a good 
deal bewildered and dismayed: “ But, Fanny — why 
— why ” — She hesitates as she too more fully realizes 
the idea. “ We shall frighten them to death! 

Fanny , impatiently, still pulling at her companion : 
“ Oh, no, we shall not. We shall frighten them away 
from death. If it isn’t death living here I should 
like to know what it is. I shall die, I know I shall, 
if I stay here another day. Oh, we must do it ! I 
shall do it, at any rate, and of course you won’t leave 
me to do it all alone. Come ! ” She puts her arm 
around Gertrude’s waist, and the latter yielding now 
if not satisfied, they go in-doors together. 

11. 

Fanny and Gertrude. 

It is now about seven o’clock, and the scene is a 
secluded space beside the road half a mile below the 
hotel. The locality is exceedingly wild and gloomy, 
the road (which, though for the most part uphill, runs 
level here for a short distance) being hemmed in on 
either side by dense woods that at this hour com- 
pletely shut out the sunlight that remains, so that a 
dim twilight is rapidly deepening all about. The 
space referred to is at the left of the road as one 
comes up from the village, and is separated from the 
highway by a close growth of laurel. The two girls 
coming along a wood-path from the rear, climb the 
tumbled wall and enter this space. They are so 
changed in appearance as to be hardly recognizable 
in the failing light. They have put on their long, 
close-fitting ulsters and wrapped themselves about the 
shoulders in such a way as to appear very burly and 
masculine. Fanny Meserole has on her head a man’s 
black slouch hat which has turned up for the occasion, 
and whose intimidating outline is surmounted by a 
long feather stuck in its crown. Miss Emmons wears 
a savage-looking Turkish fez. Their faces are par- 
tially concealed by cloth masks, and Fanny’s has 
been farther adorned by an application of burnt cork. 
Miss Meserole carries on her shoulder a large double- 
barrelled shot-gun ; and her companion is scarcely 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED EOR. 


less heavily armed with a stout hickory stick snatched 
probably from some convenient wood-pile. 

Famiy , halting and listening intently : “ No sign of 
them yet. We needn't have hurried so. But I wanted 
to be sure and be in time.” She listens a moment 
longer, then grounds her arms with a sigh of relief. 
“ Gracious ! I’m nearly dead carrying that great gun. 
If I ever join the army, I shan't enlist in the heavy 
artillery — that’s certain ! ” She carefully deposits the 
gun upon the grass. “ I’m awfully afraid it will go off.” 

Gertrude , in alarm : “ Go off ! Why, you told me 

it wasn’t loaded !” 

Fa?my, coolly : “ No more is it. But it is always 

the guns that ain’t loaded that go off — in the acci- 
dents we read about. Well, we might as well sit 
down while we are waiting.” She seats herself on a 
low rock. “Hark! I thought I heard them. I 
hope they will come along before it gets too dark.” 

Gertrude, anxiously: “But, Fanny, I don’t under- 
stand, now, what I am to do. Shall I rush out at 
them and brandish my stick and scream ? ” 

Fanny : “ Bless you, child — no, indeed ! That 

isn’t the way robbers do at all. Here, we’ll have a 
rehearsal.” She jumps up and takes her gun. 
“There, when we hear them coming up the hill we 
will crouch down behind the bushes — right here. 
And just as they get opposite — they will be walking 
the horse, you know — we will spring out at them. 
You are to run straight at old Whitey’s head and 
seize him by the bits. That is all you will have to 
do. You needn’t stir from there or say a single 
word — only hold him tight. Meanwhile I shall 
step to the wheel and level my musket at ’em — so!” 

— she suits the action to the word, snapping the 
lock of the weapon at the same time — “and demand 
their money or their lives.” Her voice in uttering 
the last words sinks to a gruff, well-rendered bass. 
“ That’s what I call my down-cellar voice. I took a 
robber’s part once, in a play at school, and I can do 
all that to perfection. Then aunt Evelyn will give 
vent to a heart-rending shriek and cover her face with 
her hands; and Andrewes will sink down in the 
bottom of the wagon all in a heap and beg for mercy. 
As for Jared — I don’t know what he will do; but 
he’s only twelve years old, and I can master him 
easy enough. And then I shall proceed to reassure 
them, you know. ‘ Ladies — again in the deep 
bass voice, but with an affectation of gruff politeness 

— “ ‘ I beg pardon for interrupting your ride in this 
seemingly rude manner, but — ahem ! — circumstances 


over which we have no control’ — etc., etc. — ‘and 
if you will just place in our hands your purses and 
jewelry, you will be allowed to resume your journey 
unharmed.’ Of course they will hand them over at 
once, and then we will let them go on. There is the 
whole thing. And I fancy it will answer.” 

Gertrude, in awe : “ But do you really mean to rob 

them, Fanny ? Is it necessary to do that l ” 

Fa?iny, thoughtfully: “Hum! I don’t know. 
Come to think of it, I guess it would be better to 
stop just short of robbing them. We should have to 
restore the things and that might spoil all. Let’s 
see.” She reflects a moment. “Ah! I’ll tell you. 
Here, take this shawl-pin ” — she quickly produces 
from some part of her dress and holds out the article 
named — “and just as they are about to deliver up 
their money, I’ll give you the word and you stick it 
into old Whitey’s neck — hard enough to make him 
jump, you know — at the same time letting go his 
head. I’ll say 1 Now, Jack, hold him tight,’ and then 
you’ll know it’s time. Do you understand?” 

Gertrude, hurriedly: “Yes, yes, I understand. 
Hark!” — raising her hand — “I was sure I heard 
wheels.” They both listen. 

Fanny, decidedly: “Yes, here they are. Wait a 
moment.” She steps forward among the laurel 
bushes and looks down the road. “Yes” — whis- 
pering back — “ somebody is coming, sure ; and I 
think I can see a white horse. It is awfully dark.” 
Again she looks out. Then she turns and motions 
to her companion. “Come! Come!” — in an intense 
whisper — “it is they. Now — all ready!” The 
sound of wheels slowly drawing near is now distinctly 
heard. Gertrude places herself beside her cousin, 
and they breathlessly await the proper instant. 

hi. 

The same , with Folinsbee Smythe, Harry Gower 
and Jared. 

A (presumably) white horse dragging a covered 
wagon at length arrives wearily at the laurel bushes. 
On the front seat two persons — or rather, in the 
dimness that has now so nearly deepened into dark- 
ness, the faces of two persons — are visible. All 
at once two black forms start out from beside the 
road, one gliding to the horse’s head and the other 
appearing at the wheel. The horse stops with 
instant alacrity. Somewhere within the depths of the 
wagon a smothered groan is heard. 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


Jared , starting up from a momentary doze and 
shrilly addressing his steed: “Go long, there. What 
ails ye ? What ye stopped here for ? ” Then he catches 
sight of the two figures looming up, fantastic and 
fearful, in the positions they have taken — highway- 
men beyond a doubt. “ O Gorham ! Look a’ 
there ! We’re elected now, I guess.” 

Folinsbee Smythe, the other person on the front 
seat, seizing Jared’s arm: “Mercy on us ! I do 
believe it’s robbers. Good gracious ! What will 


become of us ! ” His voice' is soft and high- 
pitched, such as might easily be mistaken for 
that of a woman. 

Fanny , levelling her weapon point-blank at them 
and speaking at her gruffest : “ Your money or your 

life!” The lock of the gun snaps ominously. Then 
she adds in high-tragedy style : “ Lift but a finger 

or raise a sound above a whisper, and I’ll blow you 
as high — as high as the Tip-top House. Your money 
or your life!” Again she snaps the lock. 

Folinsbee, tremulously : “What is it that you wish, 
my good fellow ? Wh — who are you, pray, and ” — 


Fanny, never dreaming that this is anybody other 
than her aunt Evelyn, and firmly proceeding with her 
programme: “Do not be alarmed, madam. I beg 
of you not to be alarmed. We are peaceable men 
engaged in the transaction of our legitimate business. 
We don’t wish to make any disturbance. You have 
only to hand over your valuables and you will at 
once be permitted to move on.” Then, fearful that 
this may have had too mild a sound, she roughly 
demands again : “ Your mo?iey or your life ! ” 


punctuating the sanguinary phrase with a click of the 
gun-lock, as before. 

Folinsbee, quickly : “ Oh, certainly, certainly. We 
— we — oh, I assure you we had not the remotest 
idea of — of making any resistance. Here, here is 
my money.” He hands over his pocket-book and 
begins fumbling at his watch chain. 

Harry Gower , from the interior of the wagon: 
“Confound it! You — whatever your name is” — 
this to the driver — “what have you stopped here 
for? What’s the row, Folly ? Who’s there, anyway ?” 

Folinsbee, to Fanny, not heeding his friend at all: 





MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


“There! There is my watch and chain and my scarf 
pin and my diamond ring.” His voice still trembles and 
his hands also, perceptibly. “ That is all that I have 
about me : upon my word it is.” He holds up his 
empty hands. Fanny has mechanically received the 
property thus almost forced upon her, and now 
stands there holding it, in an attitude ( though this is 
not perceivable in the darkness) no longer of intimi- 
dation, but of complete astonishment and confusion. 
She has heard the voice ( though she has hardly 
caught the words ) from within the wagon, and real- 
izes suddenly that there is some terrible mistake. 
This second voice is unmistakably masculine ; and 
she has by this time become aware too that the per- 
son on the front seat is not Mrs. Okie at all, but also 
an individual of the sterner sex. She is incap- 
able, for the moment, of word or action. Folinsbee, 
however, who ( whatever may be said as to his wits) 
is not to be frightened out of his power of speech, 
goes on : “I don’t suppose that this young person, 
our driver, has anything worth taking ” — 

Jared, who, it would seem, has during this while 
fairly regained his composure and is now taking close 
account of all that passes, eagerly interrupting : “ No, 
sir, ree ! /hain’t got nothin’ ? ” 

Folinsbee, not stopping for, nor indeed even hearing 
the interruption : “But my friend here — who, I fear, 
has sprained his ankle ” — He turns around and speaks 
into the darkness: “Harry, there are three or four of 
these — these gentlemen — and if we resist them we 
shall all be murdered. The only thing is to — ” 
Gower, who, carefully bestowed in the back part of 


the vehicle, and fully occupied with a sprained (or 
possibly broken) ankle from which he is suffering in- 
tensely, has, up to this point, hardly comprehended 
what is going on, but now calling out with exasperated 
energy: “What are they? — thieves, do you say?” 
A second’s pause. — “Then what in North America 
are you stopping here for! Drive on, you young ras- 
cal ! ” — This to J ared — “ Drive on, I tell you ! Let them 
murder if they want to, and be hanged for it! Give 
your horse the whip, I say.” He starts up in his ex- 
citement, and his white face now suddenly appears 
between the others. “ Here, where is it ? Give me 
the wjiip.” 

Fanny, recovering her presence of mind in the midst 
of this outbreak, and determining instantly upon the 
best course of action : “ Now, Jack ” — addressing her 
cousin in the words agreed upon and in a voice that, 
although extremely unsteady, is still sufficiently well 
disguised — “ hold him fast!” At the signal, Gertrude 
as much astonished at what has come to pass, and as 
badly frightened as anybody, recklessly plunges her 
shawl-pin into the horse’s neck. The frightened beast 
makes a leap forward, and the two girls drawing back 
just in time, find themselves the next moment once 
more alone. They stand gazing stupidly up the road 
into the darkness, as the rattling of the wheels grows 
rapidly remote. Then they turn to each other. 

Fanny, in a strained, hollow voice that is neither 
like her own or anybody’s else : “ O, Gertrude ! ” She 
holds out both her hands with the watch and other 
articles, just visible in the darkness, still in them. “ Fm 
afraid we have got more than we bargained for.” 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 

(A Comedy.) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


II. —UNEXPECTED GUESTS. 

i. 

Mrs. Okie, Andrewes and Mr. Muggs. 

T HESE three are met together, just at dark, in 
the “parlor” of the Pigwacket House. Mrs. 
Okie and Andrewes are seated near the centre-table 
on which is a lighted lamp. Mrs. Okie is a spare, 
unhappy-looking lady with an appearance of chronic 
ill health, which is aggravated just now by all the 
symptoms of a severe cold. On the table beside her 
and in her lap are a number of circulars and pam- 
phlets that are somehow suggestive of patent medi- 
cines. Andrewes, the nurse, is a motherly person, 
stout and neat. Mr. Muggs is standing, his hands 
in his pockets, with an air of coming and going. He 
is an ideal Yankee, and his outward dress through- 
out the scenes here reproduced, is chiefly a long 
yellow duster. 

Mrs. Okie, in a querulous, injured tone which is 
habitual with her : “ / don’t know what keeps them, 

T m sure. I do think ” — She interrupts herself by 
sneezing violently — once, twice, thrice. 

Andrewes , looking up from some plain sewing : 
“ There, ma’am, somebody must be a-comin’. You’ve 
sneezed three times again.” 

Mrs. Okie, turning sharply : “ I wish, Andrewes, 

that if you cannot find something more sensible than 
that to say, you would keep silence. That is the 
third time you have repeated that same remark since 
dinner. If somebody came every time I sneezed — 
a-ka-tchoo! — three times, we should have a houseful 
very quickly, I fancy. A-ka-tchoo ! a-ka-tchoo ! ” 
Mr. Muggs, with easy familiarity : “ I guess, Mis’ 

Okie, we sh’ll hev a house full pretty soon, sneezin’ 
or no sneezin’. I’ve got more applications now ’n I 
know how t’ ’commydate. I’m lookip’ f’r new ’rrivals, 
now, ev’ry stage.” 

Mrs. Okie: “I hope you are not expecting any 
to-night, Mr. Muggs.” 

Mr. Muggs, carelessly jingling some loose change 
in his pockets, and at the same time rocking himself 


slowly backward and forward on his heels and toes : 
“Wall, I d’ know. Cahn’t tell. I ruther thought 
there’d be somebody along to-night. That’s why I 
waited supper — that an’ the girls. I s’pose they’ll 
be home pretty soon now ? ” 

Mrs. Okie, after violently sneezing again the ob- 
noxious number of times, and then casting a threat- 
ening look at Andrewes, to prevent her remarking 
the fact: “I’m sure I can’t tell. I never know 
when they will come in. We won’t wait any, after 
the wagon comes. And I should think it was more 
than past time for that already.” 

Mr. Muggs : “Wall, ’tis. It’s quarter parst seven, 
an’ ’t oughter b’en here at seven. Guess Jared’s got 
a heavy load. Halloo ! ” There is a sound of voices 
outside, and then of steps on the piazza. “ That’s him, 
now. I didn’t hear no wheels. ’N’ he’s got some- 
body with him, jes’ ’s I ’xpected. I was sartain 
somebody ’d come to-night.” He makes a leisurely 
move to go and meet the new-comers. But at that 
instant they appear in the hall, a trio of them, who 
turn at once and as one man to the open doorway of 
the parlor. The central figure of the three, Harry 
Gower, is a good-looking, athletic young fellow, 
although just now he appears decidedly pale and limp. 
He leans upon his two companions and seems to have 
sustained some injury as to one of his feet. Jared 
Muggs, a youth who “ takes after his father ” in many 
ways, sturdily supports him on one side ; and Folins- 
bee Symthe performs the same office on the other. 
The latter is a fair, rather corpulent lad, with that 
certain air of effeminacy about him that is colloquially 
always described as “ softness,” and that, as he comes 
to speak, is fully borne out by his voice and all that 
he says. Gower seems to rouse himself as he per- 
ceives the group within the parlor, and halting his 
human crutches on the threshold, makes a low bow, 
chiefly in Mrs. Okie’s direction. 

ii. 

The same, with gower, folinsbee smythe^/ jared. 

Gower : “ I beg pardon for intruding in this way, 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


but — we have no choice but to trespass a little upon 
your hospitality. Can we put up here for a day or 
two, sir?” — to Mr. Muggs. 

Mr. Muggs, deliberately jingling his money all the 
while : “'Wall, I’d know. We’re pretty well filled 
up now ; leastways we shell be very soon. I guess, 
though, seein’s you ’pear t’ be in distress, ’t we c’n 
manidge it somehow. What’s happened to ye, any- 
way ? Jared, what makes ye so late ? ” 

Jared , explosively : “ O Gorham, father ! Sech a 

time’s we’ve hed ! I hain’t seen sech goin’s on afore 
sence the war o’ eighteen hunderd twelve. We’ve b’en 
stopped ’n’ ’saulted ’n’ robbed ’n’ shot at ’n’ massa- 
creed ! An’ ol’ Whitey, he got scart at the robbers ’n’ 
run away with us, an’ busted the off for’ard wheel of 
the wagon all to giblets. I picked ’em up down the 
road a piece.” “ ’Em ” seems to refer to Harry and 
Folinsbee. “ They’re out on a predestinated tower, 
a-footin’ it through the mount’ins. An’ this gen’leman 
here’s sprung his ankle.” 

Jared concludes with an air of having told the whole 
story, happy in the consciousness of having been able 
to do so before anybody else could get in a word. 

Folinsbee , to whom this condensed account is by no 
means satisfactory : “ We have been very unfortu- 

nate, good people, I assure you. My friend here and 
myself, we were out on a little pedestrian tour — just 
for the romance and pleasure of the thing, you know, 
and simply because we preferred that method of travel, 
I assure you, and Harry had the misfortune in jump- 
ing from a high rock beside the road, to severely 
sprain his ankle — ” 

Gower , impatiently breaking in upon his friend : 
“I tell you my leg is broken — in eighteen different 
places. And if you are going to make one of your 
serial stories of it, Folly, I think I’ll sit down.” He 
turns wearily toward a hair-cloth sofa at one side of 
the room, dropping Jared’s arm. Folinsbee thus 
interrupted, silently assists him in the desired direc- 
tion. 

Mrs. Okie , rising and going with them : “ Is it 

possible that you are so badly hurt ? Eighteen dif- 
ferent places ! Oh, how I wish that Doctor Dover, my 
private physician, were here. I have a medicine chest 
and several medical books with me, but I do not 
feel competent to treat such a complex fracture as 
that.” As he seats himself she bends over him with 
the peculiar interest and solicitude of a person whose 
happiest moments are those spent in doctoring either 
herself or somebody else. 


Gower , smiling faintly : “ Oh, that was only a joke, 
madam. It is only a sprain : though with the jolting 
we got coming up the hill on the run, and the fetching 
up against that tree, it is paining me a good deal. I 
think some cold water ” — 

Mrs. Okie , firmly: “Never! It is of no service 
whatever in the treatment of a sprain. Andrewes,” 



AN ARRIVAL AT THE PIGWACKET HOUSE. 


— she looks around for the nurse, but that admirable 
and efficient person has anticipated the needs of the 
occasion, and at this instant re-appears upon the scene 
bringing a basin of water, some cloths, and a varied 
assortment of phials and bottles. “ Ah ! Here you 
are. Did you bring the alcohol bottle ? — Yes ; and 
the arnica ? — and the hamamelis, and my Jonadab’s 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR . 


oil? — Very well. Now, sir,” turning to Gower, 
“you must lie down and keep perfectly still. We 
will do everything that is necessary.” Andrewes 
quickly arranges the sofa-pillow and Gower lies back 
upon it. There follows then, an examination of the 
injury which is found to be only such as shall require 
care and disuse for a few days ; and such treatment 
as is at once necessary is carefully bestowed upon it, 
Andrewes kneeling beside the sofa and deftly per- 
forming most of the work, Mrs. Okie vigorously 
directing, and the others — with the exception of Mr. 
Muggs, who just at this time is called out — standing 
about in awkward inactivity. As the dressing of the 
wound is completed, the door leading to the dining- 
room opens, and the two young ladies appear. 
They seem somewhat flushed and warm, but are 
ready-dressed for tea. 

hi. 

The same , with the further addition of Fanny Mes- 
erole and Gertrude Emmons. 

Fanny , advancing into the room : “ Oh, here you 

all are. Well, aunt Evelyn, where have you and 
Andrewes been all the afternoon? We have been 
looking for you everywhere and concluded ” — She 
seems now to catch sight of the strangers, and stops 
abruptly; though if she is surprised, it is that they 
are different from what she has fancied : she must 
have expected to find them there. 

Mrs. Okie, who is still standing: “You would have 
found us here, Fanny, any time within the last hour. 
We have been waiting for you all of that time.” 
Then she steps forward, looking from the girls to 
the new-comers as if about to introduce them. “ If 
these young gentlemen will acquaint me with their 
names, I shall be glad to introduce them to my 
nieces. I am Mrs. Granville Okie, of Boston.” She 
grows perceptibly taller as she makes this announce- 
ment. “ Possibly you may have heard the name.” 

Folinsbee, feeling himself now quite in his proper 
element, bowing profoundly and placing his hand 
upon his heart : “ Heard it, Mrs. Okie ! Not to 

have done so would argue ourselves indeed unknown. 
Why, the Kinnicutts, whom you met at Jacksonville 
last winter, are very dear friends of ours ; we have 
often heard them speak of you.” Except in moments 
of excitement, his words are all uttered with a languid 
drawl that still farther enhances the feminine effect 
that distinguishes him. “And if you will allow me to 


introduce myself in their name, I am Mr. Folinsbee 
Smythe, and this is my friend Mr. Gower, both of 
Dorchester. You see we are near neighbors.” 

Mrs. Okie, graciously: “You may be sure that 
the name of Mrs. Kinnicutt would be a sufficient intro- 
duction, even were not the position of both your fam- 
ilies already well known to me.” Then, with a 
dignified motion of the hand in their direction : 
“ These young ladies are my nieces, Miss Emmons 
and Miss Meserole.” 

This farther introduction is also, by all included, 
elaborately acknowledged. 

Fanny, demurely, to the boys : “We are very glad 
to see you. We are so few in numbers here that — 
that 

She stammers, and then drops her sentence in a 
manner quite unusual with her in the presence of 
young gentlemen. For some reason not generally ob- 
vious, she is not at all at her ease just now. 

Gower, who, reclining upon the sofa, now finds 
himself tolerably comfortable and in better spirits: 
“ That even such an addition is a welcome one. Is 
that what you were going to say ? ” He laughs good- 
humoredly. “Well, it is to this sprained ankle of 
mine that you owe the infliction.” 

He indicates his bandaged limb. 

Fanny and Gertrude together, with a great show of 
surprise : “ Ah ! you have sprained your ankle ! ” 

Folinsbee, who feels that a subject of higher import- 
ance has been too long unreferred to : “ Yes ; and, 

worse than that, we have been robbed, .” 

Fanny and Gertrude, in great apparent astonish- 
ment : “ Robbed ! ” 

Mrs. Okie, with grave concern : “ Robbed ! What 

do you mean, Mr. Smythe ? I supposed that Jared 
was joking when he said ” — 

Jared, who has patiently stood his ground all this 
while, waiting for this very moment, breaking in upon 
the lady without ceremony: “Jokin’! I guess ye 
wouldn’t ’a’ thought so, Mis’ O.K.” — this very origi- 
nal blunder as to Mrs. Okie’s name is one which, in 
spite of remonstrance, Jared will persist in — “ef you'd 
seen them highwaymen. One on ’em, the one ’t said 
‘ Money, or yer life,’ was seven feet tall ; an’ he had a 
gun ” — 

Fa/my, clasping her hands in pretty terror and 
screaming slightly : “ Oh ! oh ! A gun /” 

Folinsbee, very superciliously to Jared : “ My young 
friend, it will be quite soon enough for you to speak 
when you are invited to do so.” Then, with easy 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED EOR. 


volubility, he himself takes charge of the narrative : 
“ Yes, ladies, dreadful to relate, we were actually at- 
tacked by a band of armed robbers not thirty minutes 
ago, and scarcely half a mile from this very spot, and 
robbed of our money and watches and all that we 
possessed.” 

Harry , with a humorous look at his friend : 
“ Speak for yourself, Folly. They didn’t get mine.” 

Jared , with an emphatic movement of the head : 
“No, nor mine, nuther.” 

Eolinsbee, in no wise disconcerted : “ Well, they 

got mine — my money, about seventy-five dollars, I 
think, and my diamond ring and scarf pin, and, worst 


of all, a most exquisite monogram watch that was 
brought me from abroad by a very dear friend, and 
that I would not have taken five hundred dollars for. 
I declare, it almost makes me sick to think of it.” 

Eamiy, who with her cousin has been listening to 
this harrowing recital with an intensity of interest and 
consternation greater even than that exhibited by 
Mrs. Okie or Andrewes : “ And you had to give them 
up, did you, Mr. Smythe ? ” 

Eolinsbee , loftily : “ Had to give them up ! I should 
think I did ! Resistance under the circumstances, 
would have been madness — stark, staring madness. 


I did try to jump down from the wagon. But the 
fellow had me by the throat in an instant ” — 

Eamiy , in an indignant burst: “Oh, what a — 
story ! ” She bethinks herself just in time to smother 
the last word. 

Eolinsbee, raising his eyebrows : “ Eh ? ” 

Eanny , quickly: “What a dreadful story — to 
have to tell. Seized you by the throat, did you say ? 
Oh, I should have thought you would have been 
frightened to death!” 

Folinsbee, serenely: “Oh, no! But of course I 
was a mere child in the powerful grasp of the ruffian, 
and had no choice but to submit. Ugh ! I can feel 


his horrid fingers on my throat this minute. You can 
see for yourselves how my collar and scarf has been 
disarranged.” In point of fact Folinsbee, having 
been so badly frightened at the time, has a very 
vague idea himself as to what exactly occurred ; but 
a vivid imagination, and a well-cultivated talent 
for romancing (which he exercises sometimes, almost 
unconsciously) leave him at no loss for material out 
of which to construct his narrative. “And before I 
knew it, as you might say, he had wrenched my watch 
and my pocket-book and my scarf-pin from me.” 

Fanny , bending eagerly forward, and seeming to 




MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


hang upon his very words : “ And your ring, Mr. 

Smythe ; did he wrench that from your finger? Oh ! 
did it tear the flesh?” 

Folinsbee , complacently holding up his hand, which 
is large and white and quite innocent of injury : 
“ Why, no ; the ring was large for me, and it came off 
without difficulty.” 

Mrs. Okie , “ Then you were the only one robbed, 

were you, Mr. Smythe ? How was that ? Where 
was Mr. Gower all this time ? ” 

Harry, laughingly speaking up for himself : “ Oh, I 
was in the back of the wagon, Mrs. Okie, where the 
rascals couldn’t get at me.” Then he suddenly com- 
presses his lips and shakes his head, his laugh chang- 
ing to a threatening scowl. “ I only wish they had 
got at me. I should like to have seen them taking my 
watch and pocket-book ! I didn’t know what was up 
until the last minute.” 

Folinsbee, with undiminished assurance : “ Well, 

they would have taken your watch and pocket-book 
if we had not made our escape just as we did. You 
see when the man had gotten possession of my valua- 
bles, he drew back a little, and that gave me an 
opportunity to do something. So I just reached 
down and got hold of the whip, and struck the horse 
a stinging blow ” — 

Jared, perceiving his chance here, of securing a 
portion of the glory for himself : “ O, Gorham ! 

Thafs a stretcher ! I had that whip my self. An’ 
jes’ ’t that minute I kind o’ reached out an’ gin’ oF 
Whitey a cut ” — 

Gower, coolly interposing : “ Hold on, my young 

friend ! How many whips were there in the wagon ? ” 

Jared, warmly : “ There wasn’t on’y one : so he 

couldn't ’a’ hed any, ye see.” 

Gower: No; nor you either. Unless I am very 
much mistaken, I got hold of the whip myself at that 
moment, and reached over between you and laid it 
across the horse’s back.” 

Fanny, very seriously, though with a mischievous 
glance at Gertrude : “ Oh, but which of you are we 

to believe ? Your stories don’t agree. You couldn’t 
all of you have taken the whip and struck the horse. 
Could they, Gertrude ? ” 

Gertrude, also with great gravity : “ I do not see 

how they could, unless there were three whips, after 
all.” Then she adds, with an odd twinkle in her 
eye : “Perhaps if the horse were here, he would tell 
a different story yet. Maybe he would say that he 
started himself.” 


Harry, carelessly : “ Well, he started at any rate. 

It don’t matter who hit him. He gave a big jump all 
at once and went off up the hill as if somebody had 
driven a tack-nail into him. And I guess it is lucky 
we left just as we did, on the whole. I didn’t lose 
anything myself ; but I’m sorry for your loss, Folly, 
and I wish with all my heart we could catch the 
villains.” He pauses a moment and his face gradu- 
ally assumes an expression of ugly determination. 
“ And, by gracious ! ” — this half to himself, accom- 
panied by a resolute motion of the head from side to 
side — “we will catch ’em! I tell you what it is, I’m 
not going to be stopped this way on the public high- 
way and my life threatened and my money demanded, 
tor nothing!” His wrath at the usage he has met 
with, and his resolve not tamely to submit to it seem 
to become greater and greater as he thus continues. 
“And I tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to 
telegraph to Boston to-morrow morning for a detec- 
tive to come up here and work up the case. Til 
teach these fine fellows. They’ll find they woke up 
the wrong passenger this time. They’ll get more 
than they bargained for.” 

Mrs. Okie, with cordial approval : “Yes, they cer- 
tainly ought to be sought out, and arrested. Why, we 
sha’n’t be safe here, any one of us, for a moment. 
We may all be robbed and murdered the first time 
we go out.” 

Harry, still dwelling thoughtfully upon his idea of 
capturing the robbers : “ Do you think you would 
know any of ’em, Folly, if you saw them again ? I 
was in back so, and woke up so late in the day, that 
I didn’t get a fair look at ’em.” 

Folinsbee, doubtfully: “I don’t know, I’m sure. It 
was so dark I could not see very well. The one who 
did all the talking and who took my things was very 
large and tall; but that is about all I could make out.” 

Fanny, curiously : “ Was he so very large and tall, 
Mr. Smythe ? How tall was he ? How much taller 
than I am, for instance ? ” She seems to shrink and 
draw herself together a little as she looks at him for 
his answer. 

Folinsbee: “Oh, he was head and shoulders taller 
than you are.” 

Gertrude: “And the man at the horse’s head, 
was he as tall as that too ? ” 

Jared, irrepressibly : “ Yes, he was a big feller 

too. They was all big fellers.” 

Mrs. Okie: “Then there were several of them, 
were there ? ” 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINEE FOR. 


Jared, , nodding : “ Yes, Mis’ O.K., the woods was 

full of ’em.” 

Gower, suddenly, and with an air of having been 
occupied with his own thoughts: “Folly, I believe 
I should know him — that fellow that did the talking 
— if I should ever meet him. Don’t you know, he 
called out to the other fellow to hold the horse tight. 
He called him c Jack,’ I believe. Don’t you remem- 
ber it, Folly?” 

Folinsbee : “ Yes; but how would that help us ? ” 

Harry: “Why, true as I live, I believe I should 
know his voice. Yes ” — after a moment, speaking 
with entire positiveness, “ I am sure I should know 
it!” 

Fanny , with some anxiety : “ But wasn’t his voice 

disguised, Mr. Gower ? ” 

Gower : “ Possibly ; but that would make no 

difference. There was a tone in it, or something, 
when he yelled to his companion, that I know I 
should recognize. I should know it if I heard it in 
South Africa. And I tell you I am going to catch 
those fellows!” Again he nods his head emphatic- 
ally. “ They’ll be robbing somebody else. This 
will encourage them.” 

Mrs. Okie , with equal emphasis : “ Well, I have 

made up my mind to one thing ! ” 

Fanny, with alacrity : “ And what is that, aunt 
Evelyn ? To leave this place ? I am sure you are 


quite right. It is no longer safe to stay here. We 
should feel much more secure at a more crowded 
place.” 

Mrs. Okie: “No — not to leave here. I should not 
dare to leave here now. No, I have made up my 
mind not to stir from here — not to go a single step 
away from the house, while we remain. Then I will 
be safe.” 

Fanny, her countenance falling : “ Oh, horrors ! 

Why, aunt Evelyn, we can’t stay cooped up in the 
house all the time. We had much better go away to 
some other place.” 

Mrs. Okie, firmly : “ Yes, my dear, we can and 

we must, at least until these robbers are captured. 
Why, it would be as much as our lives are worth to 
go away from here now. The roads are not safe in 
broad daylight.” A bell is rung in the hall. “ Come, 
there is the supper-bell again. Let’s go out at once. 
Mr. Gower, we shall have to leave you for a few 
minutes.” 

Gower, cheerfully, raising himself to a sitting pos- 
ture : “ Oh, no, Mrs. Okie, I decline to be left. I 

can’t refuse to follow where the ladies lead. Folly, 
give me an arm, will you ? ” 

Folinsbee comes to his side and the party goes out 
in informal order to the dining-room, the two girls 
some distance behind all the rest and whispering ear- 
nestly together. 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 

(A Comedy.) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


III. — A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER. 


Harry Gower and Folinsbee Smythe. 

L ATE in the forenoon of the day next but one 
following the events so far related, the two 
boys are seated together upon the front piazza, Fol- 
insbee in a hammock that is swung between the house 
and one of the posts, and Harry occupying two of the 
piazza chairs, one of which supports his wounded limb 
and a pair of crutches which have been found for 
him. It is a warm morning and all is still about the 
place. 

Folmsbee , lying back in the hammock and yawning 
audibly : “ Well, I tell you we shall never find out 

anything in this way.” 

Gower, testily : “ And I tell you that we shall find 
out something in this way.” 

Folinsbee, discontentedly : “ And it doesn’t make 

so much difference to you either, since you haven’t 
lost anything.” 

He looks ruefully down at his vest, innocent of 
watch-chain, and then at his unjewelled hand. 

Gower, much provoked : “ I tell you, Folly, I’m 

just as hot to catch the rascals as you are to get back 
your jewelry; and you know I am. You won’t be 
likely to get your things back unless we do catch 
them.” 

Folinsbee : “ Then why not send for a detective, as 
you said in the first place ? ” 

Gower: “Because we don’t want any detective. 
I’ve seen enough of your detectives. If we should 
send for one, he’d come up here, make an examina- 
tion, write out a theory, pick out his criminal — the 
first person that came handy, it wouldn’t make much 
difference who — and then proceed to fasten the 
crime on him ; and meanwhile the real criminals are 
a thousand miles away, or standing by, perhaps, and 
laughing in their sleeves at the whole business. No, 
sir ! Every man his own detective, I say. We’ll 
work the case up ourselves, just as we agreed yester- 
day. We’ve got a pretty fair amount of evidence 


to go to work on already. The more I think of 
it, the more I am inclined to believe that somebody 
in this house is somehow connected with the rob- 
bery.” 

Folinsbee , with a sceptical sneer : “ And why ? sim- 
ply because there is a path leading across lots from 
the place where we were robbed to the hotel. That 
is most convincing proof ! ” 

Gower, doggedly : “ No ; there is more than that 

— a good deal more. There was that stone that had 
fallen off the wall at that very place, and the grass 
was perfectly green under it when we found it, show- 
ing that it must have been knocked off late the night 
before. That, with the tracks we saw, proves — or at 
least indicates — that the robbers went and came by 
the path. And then there was the gun that in the 
morning we found hidden in the bushes near the path, 
and yet, at night, when we looked again, had been 
taken away. I suppose you will agree that that was 
probably the gun that the man had who took your 
things from you.” 

Folinsbee, yawning again: “Yes; I suppose it 
was. But I don’t see now how the affair is thus con- 
nected with this house.” 

Gower: “ I didn’t see it myself until this morning. 
But then I discovered a new fact.” He lowers his 
voice a little. “ That very gun is at this moment 
standing in the corner of the hall up-stairs ! ” He 
looks at his companion as though quite certain of his 
being impressed by this last announcement. 

Folinsbee, opening his eyes and sitting up : “ Is 

that so ? That is a new fact.” He ponders it, as 
such, for a moment. “ And it seems to point, as you 
say, to the complicity at least, of somebody in this 
house.” 

Gower, earnestly : “Yes ; and I believe that it’s 
an organized business, this robbing people in these 
mountains ; and I wouldn’t wonder if we’d got into 
a regular nest of thieves at this hotel. How do we 
know but that Muggs himself is at the head of it all. 
I’m sure he looks it fast enough. I’ve read stories 
time and again, of innkeepers who robbed their 
guests — and murdered ’em too.” 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


Folmsbee, suddenly impressed with the plausibility 
of all this : “ Yes; and they have beds that open and 
let a fellow down into the cellar, and knives that come 
out from the wall and stab him while he is asleep. 
Good gracious ! You don’t suppose we’ve gotten into 
such a place, do you ? ” 

He regards his friend with dilated eyes. 

Harry, laughing : “ No, not quite so bad as that. 

They don’t work things that way nowadays. But they 
may be thieves and robbers nevertheless. And I 
should like to catch ’em. We can too, if we only keep 
our eyes open. All we’ve got to do is to maintain a 
sharp lookout, and keep still about it. That is the 
chief thing, Folly, to keep still. We want them to 
think that we have dropped the whole business, and 
haven’t any idea of ever finding out who robbed us.” 

Folinsbee : “ Oh, everybody thinks that already. 

Those girls were talking about it yesterday and trying 
to pump me. But I ” — 

Harry , biting his lip : “ Confound it, Folly ! That’s 
just what I don’t want you to do, talk about it.” He 
looks at the other with evident annoyance. Then he 
adds, not very graciously : “ And as for pumping 

you — you don’t need any pumping. All that is 
necessary is to start you, and you will go yourself. 
You mustn’t talk about it at all, Folly. The first thing 
you know, you will spoil everything.” 

Folinsbee, humbly : “ All right ; T won’t.” He is 

used to being snubbed and laughed at more or less 
by his friend ; and when the two are alone together 
is, indeed, a much less airy and pretentious person 
than at other times. Just as these last words are 
spoken between them, the two young lady boarders, 
Miss Meserole and Miss Emmons, come out the 
front door and, without looking along the piazza, go 
down the steps and across the road. They have their 
wraps, books, etc., and are evidently on their way to 
a shady spot just across the ravine, where they are 
accustomed to sit. Folinsbee’s eyes follow them with 
languid interest; and after a moment he gets up 
lazily from the hammock. “ If you’ll excuse me, 
Gower, I think I’ll go over and talk to those girls 
awhile.” 

He stretches himself and yawns again. 

Harry : “ All right. Only mind now — don’t talk 

about that. I hope you will find them agreeable.” 

He takes up his book that has fallen beside his 
chair and at once fixes his eyes upon its pages. Fol- 
insbee, thus dismissed, saunters off along the piazza, 
and down the steps, humming to himself a bar or two 


of In the Gloaming and condemning Gower’s unlucky 
sprain as he goes. 

ii. 

Fanny and Gertrude. 

Fanny, as they reach the other side of the road pur- 
posely dropping a skein of floss, and, in turning to 
pick it up, casting a stealthy glance back at the boys : 
“ I declare, Gertrude, I believe you are right. Did 
you hear what he said — Mr. Gower — as we came 
out ? 1 You mustn't talk about it.' That was what he 

said. ‘ You mustn't talk about it, or yon will spoil 
everything.' Yes, they are certainly planning some- 
thing about the robbery ; and all this indifference is 
just put on, to blind us. They wouldn’t talk the way 
they did that night about sending for a detective and 
being determined to find out and all that, and then, 
the very next morning, be so mum about it all at once 
without some reason. They sent a sealed telegram 
down to the village yesterday morning. Jared said 
they did. And, my dear, I bet you a plum-colored 
feather ” — young ladies do bet occasionally in words, 
as everybody knows — “ that they have sent for a de- 
tective and that he will be arriving presently. O 
Gertrude ! Suppose they should find out it was us ! 
Could they have us arrested and put in jail ? ” 

She lays her hand on her friend’s arm with genuine 
alarm. They have now crossed the bridge and 
turned to the right along the bank. 

Gertrude, gravely : “ I have been thinking for the 

last twenty-four hours of that very thing, Fanny. And 
I confess, I don’t see why not. We actually did stop 
them in the road and aim a gun at them and rob 
them. We took their property, and still have it.” 

Fanny, protestingly : “ Well, but we didn’t mean 

to rob them. And we would give them back the 
things in a minute if we only knew how to do it.” 

Gertrude, shaking her head : “ True enough, dear; 
but nevertheless, there are the plain facts of the case, 
as I said before, and the law would only take cogni- 
zance of them. People are punished sometimes for 
committing murder accidentally. I suppose they 
might be punished for committing robbery accident- 
ally too.” She halts now under the tree that marks 
their destination, dropping her shawl upon the ground 
and, standing a moment looking absently and with a 
troubled expression down upon it. “ I am very sorry 
now that we did not acknowledge the whole affair, 
and give back the things, in the first place. It is too 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR . 


late to do that now ; but we must contrive some way 
to get them back, Fanny — and we must get away 
from here. I spoke to aunt Evelyn again, but she is 
more set and unreasonable than ever. She declares 
that she cannot and will not stir from the house as 
long as the robbers are known to be all about.” 

Fafiny, spreading her own shawl upon the grass 
and resolutely seating herself : “ Well ! Let them 

find out if they can — and do their worst. I don’t 
care.” This with the obvious intention of compelling 
herself not to care. “ Do sit down at once, Ger- 
trude, and go on with the story. We’ll think of 
something else.” She begins to unroll some fancy 
work. “Let’s see. Where were we? That horrid 


of the house, suddenly interrupting : “ Oh, scissors ! 

Here he comes, now.” 

Gertrude , looking up calmly : “ Who ? Oh ! Mr. 

Smythe. Well,” — smiling slightly — “ from what we 
know of him, he is certainly not a person to be afraid 
of.” 

Fanny, tossing * her head : “ No, indeed ! We 

frightened him half out of his wits the other night ; 
and so far as I can make out, he has not made good 
the loss since. His friend had better caution him 
not to talk. The way he runs on ! — without ever 
saying anything.” Then, with a flash of resolve : 
“ But we’ll make him talk about it, Gertrude. Let 
him come. We’ll find out what they are planning 
to do.” 

hi. 

The same with Folinsbee Smythe. 

Folinsbee, stopping short to take off his hat 
and make his elaborate bow and then drawing 
nearer: “Good morning again, ladies! You 
don’t know what an exquisite little picture you 
make here under the tree. The effect is per- 
fectly charming, I assure you — with the green 
grass and your bright-hued shawls for a ground- 
work, and yourselves as figures upon it. A kind 
of study in red and green and blue, you know.” 
He raises his white hand quickly to his mouth, 
shutting back a yawn. “ I hope I don’t intrude. 
It is much cooler and pleasanter here than on 
the piazza, I assure you.” 

Fanny, with malicious ambiguity : “No one 
would think of doubting your assurance, Mr. 
Smythe.” 



“ARE YOU IN THE DRY GOODS BUSINESS?” 

brother of Lady Constantine’s had just come home, 
and Swithin had escaped out of the house in some- 
body’s else clothes. I hope he isn’t going to commit 
a highway robbery.” 

Gertrude, who, with the current number of a leading 
magazine in her hand, now also seats herself and, 
opening the book to that story occupying the place of 
honor, commences to read : “ Chapter twenty-third : 

Swithin could not sleep that night for thinking of 
his Viviette. Nothing told so significantly of the 
conduct of her first husband toward the poor lady.” 

Fanny, who has hardly listened, so far, and whose 
glance has frequently wandered back in the direction 


Folinsbee, throwing himself easily upon the 
ground and glancing about him, instantly finding 
subject for a glib continuance of his remarks : “ Miss 
Emmons, what a perfectly lovely shade of blue that 
chuddah is. “ He reaches over and takes a corner of 
the shawl between his thumb and finger. “ Miss Me- 
Metzerole ” — he stammers a little over the name, and 
gets it wrong — “lam glad to see you so industrious. 
What pretty work ! ” He takes hold also of the lace 
that Fanny is darning, examining it with a knowing 
air. Then, still holding it and looking up at her with 
(for him) unusual animation : “ I tell you what 

would be nice work for you — this drawn work, made 
from Russia crash, you know. It is quite new and is 
just too lovely for anything. I know a girl — a per- 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINEE) FOR. 


fectly delightful person, I assure you, although in 
reduced circumstances — who sent a tidy to the Dec- 
orative Art Rooms and got five dollars for it. It was 
exquisitely drawn and embroidered in white roses.” 

Fanny, regarding him with an amused expression : 
“ Mr. Smythe, are you in the dry goods business — or 
the millinery ? ” 

Folinsbee , indignantly : “ No, indeed ! What an 

idea! Why, pray?” 

Fanny: “You seemed to know so much about 
embroidery and shawls and the like.” 

Folinsbee, lightly : “ Oh, that comes natural to me. 

I always knew about fancy work and all such things, 
ever since I was a child. It was born in me.” 

Fatuiy, biting off a thread : “ Ah ! Perhaps, then, 
some of your ancestors were milliners.” 

Folinsbee, much scandalized : “I hope not. 

Fanny, giving a turn to the conversation with a view 
to bringing it to bear, presently, upon a more impor- 
tant subject: “How is your friend, this morning? 
Why did he not come over with you ? ” 

Folinsbee: “Oh, he is doing nicely. But he can’t 
get about much yet. I’m afraid we shall have to 
give up our pedestrian tour — or, as Jared calls it, 
our ‘ tower.’ ” 

Gertrude, pleasantly putting in a word here, though, 
as a rule, she seems inclined to listen rather than 
talk : “Yours is a case of ‘Two on a Tower ’ then, 
is it ? ” She laughs, glancing at the story upon her 
lap. 

Folinsbee, who does not keep the run of magazine 
literature : “ Eh ? Oh ! Ha, ha ! ” He laughs feebly 
as one who suspects the existence of a joke but quite 
fails to perceive its point. 

Fanny , sturdily keeping to her object : “ I am 

sorry that your trip should be spoiled in this way, 
and that you should have met with — with your unfor- 
tunate adventure the other night.” Then, with much 
inward trepidation, though outwardly in the most 
careless manner possible, she collects the matter of 
her anxiety into a single direct interrogation, and 
abruptly puts it to him : “ Mr. Smythe, speaking of 

the robbery, did you send for your detective as you 
said you should do ? ” 

Folinsbee, remembering instantly his friend’s injunc- 
tion, and, for the moment, almost as much disconcerted 
by this point-blank question as he had recently been 
by the sight of a musket levelled at him in the same 
manner and by the same person : “ Eh ? Detective? 
Well, n-no. That is — no — oh, no. Where would 


be the use, anyway ? ” He turns a little red as he 
encounters her eye fixed searchingly upon him. Then 
he adds to himself, still thinking of Gower, “ Well, 
how the Dickens am I to answer such a question 
as that ? ” 

Fanny, sharply regarding him a moment longer, 
and then dropping her eyes upon her work, at once 
and completely convinced that he is trying to deceive 
her : “ Oh, I didn’t know but it might be of use.” 
There is a distinct tremor in her voice, if one were 
but watching for it; and her heart beats violently 
within her as she reflects that, evidently, a detective 
has been sent for, although the boys are so secret 
about it. And having satisfied herself of so much, 
Miss Fanny, for the moment, seems to have little zeal 
for investigating, the matter farther. It is Gertrude, 
who, with a composure also but illy maintained, con- 
tinues the inquiry. 

Gertrude : “ Then you have given up all hope of 

capturing the robbers and getting back your prop- 
erty ? ” 

Folinsbee , recovering himself somewhat but finding 
this question hardly less difficult to answer than the 
other : “ Given up all hope ? Ahem ! Well, now, I 

— well, you wouldn’t quite say that, you know. 
‘While there’s life there’s hope,’ you know.” 

He breathes a little sigh of relief, reflecting that he 
has done rather better this time. The real effect of 
the answer, however — since it is plainly a prevarica- 
tion — is to settle the girls in the conviction already 
arrived at. The young gentleman’s talent for the 
construction and remodelling of facts seems to stand 
him in but poor stead in an emergency. 

Gertrude, keenly alive to the seriousness of the 
matter and firmly determined to know the worst : 
“ Then you don’t suspect anybody ? ” 

Folinsbee, this time without visible embarrassment : 
“ Suspect anybody ? Dear me ! Whom should we 
suspect? We haven’t seen anybody except the few 
people at the house.” 

Fanny, with desperate hardihood, having resum- 
moned her courage : “ Well, you might suspect some 
of them , you know. You might suspect us, for in- 
stance.” 

The smile with which she seeks to cover the real 
import of the words can hardly be said to be a 
success. 

Folinsbee, with an exhibition of merriment that quite 
reassures his companion on this point, at least : 
“ Why, yes ; to be sure. I never thought of that. 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


Ha, ha, ha ! You would make two capital robbers, 
you would, indeed ! Why, if you should stop me in 
the road, and demand my money, I do believe I 
should be quite incapable of resistance. You would 
be perfectly irresistible, I assure you.” 

He laughs again, and the girls, a good deal 
relieved, and enjoying in a way that he little dreams 
of, the image his words call up, laugh with him. 

Fanny: “Yes, I think we should make a pretty 
successful pair of robbers. Gertrude, if we ever come 
to real want we will try it. No doubt we shall get 
lots of ‘swag’ — isn’t that what they call it? — and 
soon repair our shattered fortunes ! ” Then she adds 
more soberly : “ Well, Mr. Smythe, I hope with all 
my heart that you will get back your property.” 

Folinsbee , quite sincerely, now, for that matter, 
lugubriously shaking his head : “ I don’t know. I 

haven’t really much hope myself, although we mean ” 
— He catches himself abruptly and falls to examin- 
ing his hat band. Then he turns to Gertrude : “ Miss 
Emmons, I do believe that you were reading when I 
came up ; and I interrupted you. Is that so ? ” 
Gertrude, smiling and blushing: “Why, yes; I 
was reading. But it doesn’t matter.” 

Folinsbee, with a gesture which ends in his again 
covering his mouth with his hand : “ Oh ! but I 

ought not to interrupt. I beg you to go on with it at 
once just as though I were not here. Allow me to 
remain and be a part of your audience. I am sure 
you read delightfully. May I ? ” 

Gertrude, modestly embarrassed, but with a horror 
of appearing affected : “ Why, certainly, if you wish 

it. I don’t read delightfully though, or anything of 
the sort. Fanny, shall I go on ? ” 

Fanny, arranging her work : “ Oh, yes ; I am dying 
to hear what comes next. You must keep quiet, Mr. 
Smythe, if you stay, and not speak at all. You 
ought to have brought your fancy work with you.” 

Folinsbee : “ Oh, I will lie here just as I am, and 

not move or say a word. I can keep still, Miss Mes- 
erole, on occasion.” 

He throws himself back, as he speaks, upon a por- 
tion of one of the shawls, placing his clasped hands 
beneath his head and closing his eyes. Fanny 
regards him with an appreciative smile, as Gertrude 
resumes her reading. For some minutes the three 
remain thus, nothing being heard save the low, musi- 
cal tones of Gertrude’s voice. 

Fanny, in a cautious whisper : “ Gertrude ! Ger- 

trude ! ” Gertrude looks up. Fanny raises her finger. 


“ Sh ! Look ! ” She points to their prostrate com- 
panion who, still extended where he had placed 
himself, is now seen by his regular and heavier 
breathing and a blissful smile that has settled upon 
his features, to be fast asleep. Fanny gathers up her 
work and rises to her feet. “ Come ! ” she continues, 
still in a whisper. “ We’ll just fold up our tents like 
the Arabs, and as quietly steal away. It will serve 
him right.” She laughs silently. “ Come ! ” 

Gertrude, at once entering into the spirit of the 
joke, rises also, and taking hold of each other’s hands, 
they laughingly, but with all caution, steal away from 
the spot. As they cross the bridge and arrive at the 
edge of the road, they suddenly halt, perceiving that 
the hotel wagon has just driven up before the house, 
and that a stranger is alighting. 

IV. 

Harry Gower aiid Professor Pepperell, with 
Jared and Mr. Muggs. 

Harry, still sitting with his book where Folinsbee 
had left him, hears the wagon drive up, and is aware 
that some one has come, but takes no particular 
interest in the fact until his attention is aroused by the 
voice of the stranger as, standing on the steps, he 
gives some directions about his trunk. At the sound 
of this voice, which is markedly deep and gruff, 
Harry starts up in amazement, dropping his book and 
causing his crutches to fall clattering to the floor. He 
sits thus, looking eagerly toward the steps and regard- 
ing the new-comer until the latter speaks again. 
Then, with a muttered exclamation, the lad reaches 
for his crutches, and hastily adjusting them, moves 
rapidly along the piazza, evidently with the purpose 
of meeting the stranger, although his manner is not so 
much one of recognition — at least friendly recogni- 
tion — as of surprise and resolution. The stranger 
has now ascended the steps and turned again, still in 
the attitude of one fussily anxious about his baggage. 
He is certainly a remarkable figure, an elderly man, 
very large and tall, dressed in rusty but entirely 
respectable broadcloth, with a white Panama hat upon 
his head which broadly overshadows a face already 
effectually concealed by a pair of immense goggles 
and a heavy beard and mustache, grisly and unkempt. 
His hair behind is gray also, very thick and wiry, 
suggestive of the wigs one sees at the costumer’s. 

Jared, who having unstrapped a large, iron-bound 
chest from the rack of the wagon and brought it reck- 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


lessly to the ground, appears now to be waiting for 
somebody to come and take it into the house for him : 
“ What! Ye don’t ’xpect that I’m goin’ t’ take ’t in 
alone , do ye ? Great Gorham ! Guess I’d hev t’ set 
down an’ grow some first. Why, it weighs five hun- 
d’ed weight ef it weighs a ounce. It took three men 
t’ git it on t’ th’ rack down t’ Pigwacket. Pretty 
strong they was, too — ’n’ their language was pretty 
strong also. What ye got in it, anyway ? Guess it 
must be gold by the heft, or rock.” 

Professor Pepperell, with a hasty glance at Gower, 
who at this moment is just starting forward : “ Hush ! 
hush ! young man ! Don’t speak so loud ! Don’t 
speak so loud ! ” 

Jared: “ Wall, don’t worry ! They’ll be here ’n a 
minute. All we’ve got t’ do is t’ keep calm.” 

Harry , now stepping up and with an effort control- 
ling some strong emotion, and assuming an air of 
politeness and hospitality : “ How do you do, sir ? 

You seem to be a new arrival.” 

Professor Pepperell: “ Yes, I have just come. My 
name is ” — he pauses a single instant, and when he 
speaks the name it is in a lowered and cautious voice ; 
“ Palinurus Pepperell, Professor Palinurus Pepperell. 
I suppose I can stop here ? I have ” — again an in- 
stant’s hesitation and a mysterious air of caution — 
“ I have important business in this locality. Are you 
the landlord ? ” 

Ha?'ry, laughing slightly : “ Oh, no ; I’m not the 

landlord. Here is the landlord.” Mr. Muggs appears 
at this moment around the corner of the house, fol- 
lowed by one of the men. “ Mr. Muggs, here ! ” — Mr. 
Muggs comes up the steps. “ This is Professor Pali- 
nurus Pepperell.” Harry performs the introduction 
with the least bit of a sneer. “ He wishes to put up 
here. He has important business in this locality.” 

Mr. Muggs , heartily extending his hand : “Glad t’ 
see ye, Perfesser. Or ruther, I should be glad t’ see 
ye ef we wasn’t so plaguey full jes’ now. Howsomd- 
ever, I never turn anybody away ’f I c’n help it. 
Guess we’ll manidge t’ put you up somehow. Come, 
Tink ” — he turns back to the man — “le’s git th’ 
trunk right up.” 

They go around back of the wagon and with much 
tugging and groaning, the heavy chest is slowly 
brought up the steps and into the house, the owner 
carefully marshalling the procession and Harry Gower 
standing by an interested spectator. The instant 
they disappear, the lad hobbles down the steps, and 
sets off across the road at a rapid gait. He comes 


suddenly upon the girls who have lingered a little 
until the piazza shall be clear. 

v. 

Fanny and Gertrude with ( for a moment ) Harry 
Gower. 

Harry, pulling up as he sees the young ladies : “ I 
thought my friend Smythe was with you. I — I 
wanted to see him a moment.” His face is flushed, 
and he has the air of a person seeking another for 
the purpose of communicating important news. 

Famiy, mechanically : “ He was with us a moment 

ago. He has — we have just left him. You will find 
him across the bridge under the tree.” She indicates 
the direction. Her own manner is strange and dis- 
tracted, though this Gower does not perceive. 

Gower : “Thanks. I will go and find him.” He 
bows and continues on. 

Fanny , in a hoarse whisper, convulsively seizing 
her friend by the sleeve : “ Now what do you think ? 

He is going to tell his friend who has arrived. I tell 
you that man is a detective in disguise, whom they have 
sent for to come up here and find out about the rob- 
bery. What else can it mean ? You saw yourself 
how quickly he started up when he saw that some- 
body had come, and how he came forward and how 
strangely they both acted. Of course they didn’t 
wish to recognize each other openly. And he’ll pre- 
tend to be some ordinary person who has come here 
to stop ; and all the while he will be spying about 
and investigating. Oh, you needn’t say another word, 
Gertrude. Where is the detective they sent for if 
this isn’t he ? And I’m just as sure that man had on 
a wig and false whiskers as I am that this lace I’ve 
got on is imitation. I tell you it is the detective ! ” 

Gertrude, huskily : “ O, Fanny, if he should be ! 

He would find us out, sure ! We could not deceive a 
detective as we have those boys.” 

Fanny, desperately : “ But we will deceive him ! 

A detective is only a man , after all. A woman is a 
match for a man any time. Come, let’s go in ! ” 
They continue their way now across the road. “ I 
wonder, by the way, what he carries in that dreadful 
black box. Hand-cuffs and disguises, I suppose.” 
Gertrude shudders ; and then in silence, they go. 

vi. 

Harry and Folinsbee. 

Harry, coming up to where Folinsbee is lying and 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


gazing down at him in astonishment: “Well, what 
in the name of the Seven Sleepers does this mean ! ” 
He looks back toward the girls and then down again 
at his unconscious friend. “ If this isn’t falling asleep 
at one's post with a vengeance ! ” Then, raising his 
crutch he gives the sleeper a rap on the head. 

Folinsbee , starting up and rubbing his eyes : “ What 

is it ? Oh, I’ll give them up. Of course I’ll give them 
up.” Then seeing his friend and more completely 
regaining his consciousness, he looks foolish. “ I 
declare, Harry, I thought you were that highwayman.” 

Gower , curtly : “ Well, I’m not. But — look here ! 


knew I should — in spite of his disguise. He’s 
rigged out as a Professor and given his name as Pep- 
pered. Well peppered him before he is many days 
older. I ted you, Folly, we’ve got him!” 

Folinsbee , not yet greatly moved : “ Wed, I hope 

we have. And I hope we’ve got my monogram watch 
and diamond ring, too.” Then he glances stupidly 
at the shawl from which he has risen. “Whose In- 
dia shawl is that ? Where are those girls ? I de- 
clare, I believe that tiresome story put me to sleep.” 
He stoops and picks up his hat and the shawl. 

Gower : “ I should think it had. I vow, you’re a 



“THIS IS PROFESSOR PALINURUS PEPPERELL.” 


Are you sure you are awake ? I’ve got something to 
ted you. I’ve seen your highwayman ! He has just 
driven up to this hotel ! He has come to stay — has 
important business in this locality ” — this with con- 
temptuous irony — “ and he has brought his treasure- 
chest with him — to pack our watches and jewelry in, 
I suppose.” 

Folinsbee , getting up off the ground, still very much 
bewildered: “ What are you talking about? The 
highwayman here ! What do you mean ? ” Are you 
sure ? ” 

Gower : “ Sure ? As sure as sunrise ! I recog- 

nized that voice of his the instant I heard it — I 


cool one, to go to sleep in the presence of two girls, 
that way. That beats me l” 

Folinsbee , yawning : “ Oh, I’m not afraid of girls. I 
always do as I please when I’m with ’em. They kind 
of regard me as one of ’em, you know.” 

Harry , laughing in spite of himself : “ I should 

think they would.” Then more seriously, “But come. 
If you’re sure you’re awake, I want you to come over 
to the house and take a look at our Professor and see 
if you recognize him.” He turns toward the house 
and they go back across the bridge again, Harry talk- 
ing earnestly ad the while in subdued tones. 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 

(A Comedy.) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


IV. — INTERVIEWING A PROFESSOR. 

i. 

Harry and Folinsbee. 

I T is now early morning. The boys have come out 
for a walk before breakfast, and, in spite of 
Harry’s crippled condition, have strayed some dis- 
tance from the house. They are advancing at the 
present moment along a certain cart-track that has 
led them well into the woods, and that would bring 
them out presently upon the foot-path already men- 
tioned which strikes the highway at the scene of the 
late robbery. The sunlight glitters among the tree- 
tops, but has not yet sifted down into the cool recesses 
of the wood. The air is delightfully fresh and sweet 
with the dew of morning and the bracing odor of the 
pines. The boys are talking earnestly, and still upon 
the subject which at this time is all-engrossing. 

Harry , who has halted a moment to say something, 
now turning and resuming his labored advance : “ As 
for eavesdropping, I don’t call it eavesdropping, lis- 
tening to such a precious pair of rascals as that, plot- 
ting against the public welfare. At any rate, I’m not 
sorry for it. I only wish I had come into the office 
sooner, so as to have heard more. And I’m quite 
willing to apologize — when once we’ve got ’em con- 
victed.” 

Folinsbee , with decided interest : “ And those were 
his exact words, were they ? ” 

Harry : “ Yes. They were right outside the win- 

dow, not six feet from where I stood. Muggs was 
just shutting up for the night.” 

Folinsbee : “ And what was it he said — the pro- 
fessor ? ” 

Harry : “ He said, ‘ Then I can depend upon you 

if I should need any help ? ’ That’s what I heard 
first.” 

Folinsbee: “And Mr. Muggs told him he could 
depend on him ? ” 

Harry : “ Yes ; he said he was always ready to 

turn an honest penny, and gave one of his hypocrit- 


ical laughs. And then the other, he lowered his 
voice and said ‘ Remember now, not a word of this to 
anybody, or the whole object of my coming here will 
be defeated,’ or something like that.” 

Folinsbee: “ And the landlord promised not to say 
anything, did he ? ” 

Harry : “Yes ; he said he would be ‘ as dumb as 
a wooden dog.’ And then he began slamming the 
blinds, and I couldn’t catch any more. But it all 
goes to prove what I said before — that there’s a 
whole gang of them, probably , and. that Muggs is in 
league with them ; and this professor is the chief. 
That's his /r^-fession.” 

Folinsbee , very much impressed by what he has 
heard : “ It does look so.” He walks along thought- 
fully, slightly in advance of his companion. Presently 
he stops. “What’s that?” Harry halts also and 
they listen. A peculiar tapping noise is heard. They 
move on a short distance and then, at an opening 
among the trees, come suddenly into full view of the 
person who must have been the occasion of the noise. 
Several rods from the cart-track, in the midst of an 
open space, there is a ledge of rocks, half-way up 
which a human form is visible, tall and massive, and, 
from the goggles and grisly hair and beard that sur- 
mount it, at once recognizable as that of Professor 
Peppered, in spite of a great change in the gentleman’s 
apparel. He is clothed from head to foot in a coarse 
strong suit of reddish material, and on his head he 
wears a most unrespectable black soft hat, in the band 
of which a spray of fern has been thrust. At the 
present moment he stands facing the boys, but is so 
intent upon the examination of a small object which 
he holds in his hand and which flashes brightly in the 
sun as he holds it up, that he does not perceive the 
newcomers. Under his left arm can be seen also 
another object which, at that distance, looks as much 
like a horse pistol as anything else — or, for that 
matter, as much like a hammer as a horse pistol. 
Folinsbee, the instant he sees him, clasps his hands 
together and utters an exclamation : “ Mercy, Harry, 
look there ! It is he ! I recognize him now, fully. 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


There is no longer a particle of doubt.” Harry, 
looking also, at once comprehends the other’s meaning. 
The gigantic figure on the rocks, with the hat and 
fern, the loose jacket bulging from the body, the 
whole outline as it is presented in clear relief, recalls 
instantly and unequivocally the dark form of that 
robber who had presented himself at their carriage- 
wheel three nights before. 

Harry , emphatically : “ You’re right, Folly. What 

the mischief is he doing here at this time ? Has he 
been out all night, and is that somebody else’s watch 





PROFESSOR PEPPERELL ON THE LEDGE. 


that he is examining so closely? That is certainly a 
pistol under his arm.” At that moment the object 
of their remarks looks up and discovers them. 
Instantly he thrusts the article that he has been 
examining, and the weapon beneath his arm, into a 
canvas bag that hangs at his side, and turns away 
with a pretence of not having seen them. Harry 
nudges his companion. “ Ah ! Do you see that ? 
He don’t see us ! He’s got to see us, though, all the 
same. Come along.” He starts forward into the 
open space. “ Now is our time to interview him. 


We’ll see what he has to say for himself.” He 
looks back at Folinsbee as the latter seems to hesi- 
tate. “ Come on ! You’re not afraid of him in 
broad daylight, are you ? ” Whereupon Folinsbee 
joins him and they advance toward the rocks. 

ii. 

Harry, Folinsbee and Professor Pepperell. 

Harry, halting at the base of the ledge : “ Good 

morning, Professor.” He speaks in his blandest 
tones, taking off his hat with exaggerated politeness. 
The boys have learned, at Preparatory School, to 
take off their hats to professors. 

Folinsbee, taking the cue from his companion and 
adopting his own most effusive style : “ Ah ! Good 

morning, Professor. It is a truly delightful morning, 
is it not ? — so balmy and beautiful.” 

Professor Pepperell, in the gruffest and most uncom- 
promising manner imaginable, casting at them at the 
same time a quick distrustful glance : “ Good morn- 

ing to you.” His bearing during the entire inter- 
view is strange, and, from the point of view which the 
boys seemed determined to take with regard to him, 
undeniably suspicious. It is quite evident that there 
is something, whatever it may be, which he is extremely 
anxious to conceal ; and yet it would seem to be only 
by the exercise of the greatest self-denial that he is 
able to refrain from talking of it. 

Harry, affably, continuing; “You are out early 
this morning, sir.” 

The Professor, stiffly : “Yes, sir; I am out early. 
I am in the habit of being out early. It is the early 
bird that catches the worm.” He gives a slight hitch 
to the canvas bag, as though to push it further out of 
sight. 

Harry, innocently : “ Ah ! Then it is worms, is 

it, that you have in your bag there ? It has the 
appearance of being something much harder and 
more valuable.” 

The Professor, in sudden alarm : v Eh ? Oh — well 
— I ” — he pauses in manifest confusion, instinctively 
giving the bag another hitch. Then, clearing his 
throat, he goes on more collectedly : “ Well, yes — 

ahem ! — I do not know why I may not say to you that 
what I have here is — ahem ! — something of a nature 
more consistent and precious than would be a collec- 
tion of the members of that inferior grand division of 
Articulates which the bird who is abroad betimes is 
said to secure.” His voice deepens and his man- 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINEE FOR. 


ner grows more earnest as he thus speaks, and he 
seems to unbend a little, and taking his stand more 
firmly upon the rocks and clearing his throat resound- 
ingly for further remarks : “ No, young gentlemen ; I 

used the words of the proverb in a figurative, not a 
literal sense. That branch of scientific research 
which occupies itself with the study of that depart- 
ment of natural history known as the animal kingdom, 
although well enough in its way, has little charm for 
me. /find occupation and delight in the investiga- 
tion of subjects of infinitely higher interest and 
vaster importance, and which has to do with objects 
that have been in existence ever since the foundations 
of the earth were laid.” He pauses again, thoroughly 
warmed now with his theme, and stands with his arm 
raised and his finger pointing, as it were, far away 
into those prehistoric times which he has in mind, 
looking down at his audience at the same time as if 
to note the effect of his words. 

Folinsbee , with affected wonder : “ pear me ! So 

old as that ! ” Then scarcely taking the trouble to 
lower his voice : “ You’d better take some of them 

to Boston. They’re giving prodigious prices there 
just now for old-fashioned things.” 

The Professor , taking no notice : “ Yes, young 

gentlemen, and I may say also that in the twoscore 
of years that I have given to this most fascinating 
employment, I have made for myself a name that is 
known far and wide in every quarter where Science 
has her votaries — a name which, I may confidently 
affirm, presidents and kings have envied. It may be, 
young gentlemen, that even to you, young as you are, 
that name is not entirely unfamiliar?” He stops 
once more, eagerly regarding them as if for an 
answer to this. 

Harry , with an ill-concealed sneer : “ Oh, yes, we 

have seen it on the hotel register.” 

The Professor, with magnificent scorn : “ The hotel 
register ! Young man, young man, that simple signa- 
ture which you there see — Palinurus Peppered — 
that tells but little of the truth.” 

Harry , muttering : “ Humph ! We are well aware 

of that ; better than you think, my friend.” 

The Professor, eloquently proceeding : “Yes, young 
gentlemen ; when I inscribed that name upon the 
hotel register I might have added, but for — ahem ! — 
but for certain prudential considerations, a score of 
honorable titles. What would you have thought, 
young sirs, if you had seen appended thereto ” — he 
hesitates, seeming to study their faces a moment, and 


then hurries on as if actually fearful that he might be 
able to resist the temptation — “What would you have 
thought if you had seen added thereto the letters 
M. A., P. H D ., D. S. C ., F. G. S., c W., 
and the titles Curator of the Mineral Museum , 
Professor of Antediluvian History , and Instructor 

in Geology at X University , Author of ‘ Pep- 

perell's Popular Handbook of Geologic Science ,’ 

‘ The Inner Life of a Mountain ,’ ‘ A Pocket full of 
Rocks,' ‘ The strange Adventures of a Pebble- Stone, &>c., 
&>c., <S j c. What would you have thought then ? ” 

Harry, in a contemptuous undertone : “ Thought ! 

we should have thought it was all a pack of lies and 
nonsense ; and we should have believed it just about 
as much as we believe all this stuff that you are trying 
to cram us with now.” 

Folinsbee, at the same time with an air of indulgent 
credulity : “ So you are Professor of Geology in 

X University, are you? It is strange that we 

have never seen your name upon the catalogue.” 

The Professor, sharply : “ Catalogue ! What 

know you of catalogues ? ” 

Folinsbee, loftily: “We have had the pleasure of 
examining about two dozen of them, lately. We 
are expecting to enter colleges ourselves, this fall. 
We shall probably go to Z College.” 

The Professor, quickly : “ Z College ! ” Instantly 

he seems to shrink into himself, as a turtle touched 
in a sensitive point, might withdraw into its shell. Then 
he slowly brings his great goggles again to bear upon 
them in the same hostile manner as upon their first 
appearance. At length, with freezing emphasis : 
“ Perhaps, then, you are acquainted with the Pro- 
fessor of Paleozoic Literature at that college, Dr. 
Confucius Witherspoon ? ” He shakes his head 
impatiently and his nostrils dilate with scorn as he 
speaks the name. 

Folinsbee, readily, it not being his way to acknowl- 
edge that anybody is unknown to him : “ Oh, yes, 

indeed ! Of course we know Dr. Witherspoon.” 

Harry, sarcastically : Oh, certainly. Everybody 
has heard of Dr. Confucius Witherspoon. His name 
is a household word throughout the land. It is even 
better known and more highly esteemed than that of 
Professor Palinurus Pepperell.” 

The Pi'ofessor, drawing himself up : “ What, sir ! 

A household word! More highly esteemed and 
better known than mine ! ” He stamps his foot 
upon the rock and glowers upon Harry with swiftly 
growing wrath. Then he bursts forth in a fine rage : 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


“Zounds, sirrah ! Do you mean to insult me to my 
face ? Household word, indeed ! that quack ! that 
ignoramus ! that dabbler in the grandest and oldest 
science the world has known ! Ugh ! Oh ! ” He 
splutters and gasps and stops, fairly rendered speech- 
less at last with indignation and anger ; and shaking 
his head impotently, he turns away from them with a 
fierce grunt of disgust. 

Harry , moving on a little as the Professor is doing, 
and coolly continuing the conversation : “ I wonder, 

Professor, that a person of your world-wide reputation 
and vast learning has chosen to bestow himself upon 
such an out-of-the-way place as this. One would 
think that a gentleman who had inscribed his name as 
you have done, upon the tablets of fame, would hardly 
care to write it also upon the register of the Pig- 
wacket Hotel. What did you come here for, any- 
way? ” The lad’s manner, it must be acknowledged, 
is somewhat cavalier and disrespectful ; but it is to 
be remembered that he firmly believes the person he 
addresses to be an impostor and scoundrel rather 
than the distinguished scholar that he pretends. 

Folinsbee, jovially chiming in: “Yes, Professor, 
what is your object in visiting this remote and unciv- 
ilized spot? ” 

The Professor, sullenly, as he still moves slowly 
along the ledge : “It can matter nothing to you what 
my object is in coming here ; nothing at all ! ” He 
continues his way, moving his head from side to side, 
and speaking half to himself : “Unless — unless” — 
He halts and turns fiercely upon them, apparently 
seized with some new and powerful suspicion. 
“ Young men, let me ask, rather, why you are here ? ” 
He looks them over with renewed distrust, seeming to 
debate his thought with himself. If he really has some 
secret to guard, it might well seem to him now that these 
boys are strangely, and with some sinister design, 
curious about it. Harry, interpreting this in his own 
way and fearful that he may be going too far (since 
it is not at all their intention to betray to the pre- 
tended professor their knowledge of his true charac- 
ter), hastens now by a demeanor once more entirely 
deferential and bland, to set aside any distrust his 
words may have awakened. 

Harry: “Of course, Professor, we understand 
that you have come here on some business connected 
with your profession ; and we trust that you will not 
for a moment think that we wished to curiously inquire 
into it, or anything of that sort.” 

The Professor, at this speech, giving evidence, 


strangely enough, perhaps, of increased and decided 
alarm: “What, sir? Who said that I — No, sir! 
You have no reason to suppose from anything I have 
said — not the slightest reason, sir — that — that ” — 
He hesitates, very much agitated indeed, and a good 
deal entangled as to the words in which he is striving 
to express himself. He extricates himself immedi- 
ately, however, with an indignant burst: “At any 
rate, whatever my object may be in coming here, I 
don’t know what business it is of two young whipper 
snappers who — who had much better be home this 
minute playing with their blocks and rattles, than 
wandering about the country spying upon respectable 
people and defeating the ends of science. Ugh ! ” 
He puts a point to his sentence with another thor- 
oughly disgusted grunt; and this time as he turns 
away, marches off so decidedly that the boys cannot 
very well follow. He mutters angrily to himself as 
he goes up the ledge: “Yes, I’ll warrant me they 
are! Spies of Confucius Witherspoon, who will 
write to him at once and acquaint him with the fact 
that I am here, and (if they have found it out) the 
work I am at. Well, let them. And let him hurry 
to the spot. Aha! He will find that he is come too 
late. That I have forestalled him. He will find 
that his hated rival in geologic fields has already 
secured the wished-for prize.” He glances around 
to assure himself that the boys are not following, and 
then slyly slips his hand into the canvas bag, drawing 
therefrom a large piece of stone glittering with quartz 
and mica. Holding this carefully before him so 
that the boys shall not see it, he gazes at it for sev- 
eral seconds in silent ecstacy. “Yes; unless I am 
terribly mistaken, this bit of stone, worthless as it 
might appear to the vulgar eye, cherishes in its heart 
of hearts the secret that I covet, and when broken 
will disclose it — the secret which shall, when pub- 
lished to the world, make my name doubly famous, 
and discomfit forever him who ventures to call him- 
self my rival.” Again holding the stone at arm’s- 
length, he regards it for a moment with an ecstatic 
expression ; and then drawing it rapturously to him, 
presses it to his bosom. 

Harry, turning away after the two have watched 
the Professor for a moment, and starting back toward 
the woods : “ Well, we might as well go back, Folly, 
and see if they’ve got breakfast ready.” Then, as 
they walk along : “ What a precious lot of humbug he 
has been giving us, hasn’t he — about his antedilu- 
vian period and his Dr. Confucius Witherspoon? 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


Did you ever hear such a mixed-up mess ? No real 
professor would have talked that way. It was a reg- 
ular burlesque. And yet he thinks we swallowed it 
all. Just let him wait a little ! We’ll let him know 
that we are not quite as green as we look to him to 
be through those goggles of his.” They have now 
regained the woods and turned back along the cart- 
path. “ Never you fear, Folly, but we’ll get back 
your watch and things. We’ll have them back inside 
of twenty-four hours. I’ll wager my game leg, here, 
against a wooden one, that I can go and lay my hands 
upon them this minute. If we only could find the 
property, Folly — in his trunk or pockets or some- 


around this curve in the cart-path just alluded to — 
they also being engaged in earnest conversation. 

Gertrude: “The strangest part of it is that he 
should have told aunt Evelyn at all — a perfect 
stranger so, and such an important matter. Probably 
he thought that she might help him some way in his 
investigations.” 

Fanny, eagerly : “ And you couldn’t get her to say 
a single word about it except that ? ” 

Gertrude: “No; she said he made her promise 
solemnly that she would not tell anybody. And when 
aunt Evelyn promises anything, she keeps her promise. 
I’ll say that for her.” 



THE GIRLS INTERVIEW THE PROFESSOR. 


where — then we should have all the evidence we 
wanted. That would clinch the thing. And I tell 
you ” — They have now retraced their way quite a 
distance along the cart-path, and presently, Harry 
still talking to his friend in subdued though earnest 
tones, disappear around a curve. 

hi. 

Fanny and Gertrude. 

At exactly the moment that the boys are turning 
away from their interview with the Professor, the two 
girls, also out for a walk before breakfast, come 


Fanny , resolutely : “ I bet you I could get it out 
of her. I’m going to try.” 

Gertrude, shaking her head : “I am certain you 
could not. I asked all the questions that I dared, 
and hinted around in all sorts of way ; but all I could 
find out was that he was a ‘ highly respectable person,’ 
and that his business here was of unusual importance. 
If he succeeded in his object, she said, then every- 
body would know and we would understand. But 
beyond that she would not say another word. She is 
especially interested in him because he has told her a 
great deal about the hay fever and recommended her 
some books ” — 



MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR . 


Fanny , suddenly stopping short : “ Sh ! ” She 

raised her hand warningly. Voices are heard — those 
of Folinsbee and Harry — somewhere in advance. 
“ Somebody’s coming — those boys ! They’re coming 
this way. Let’s hide, quick ! ” On the impulse of the 
instant she seizes her friend by the shoulder, and they 
quickly conceal themselves among the trees beside 
the way. The boys appear the next moment and 
slowly go by the place, Harry talking to his friend as 
already seen. The girls wait, scarcely daring to 
breathe, until they disappear, and then step forth 
from their concealment. 

Gertncde , pressing her hand to her side and speak- 
ing in an awe-struck whisper : “ O, Fanny, did you 
hear what he said ? My heart beats so that I can 
hear it, this minute.” 

Fanny , also very pale and breathless : “ He said 
that he knew where those things were and that he would 
have them back in twenty-four hours. Wasn’t that what 
he said ? I don’t believe it ! I don’t believe he knew.” 

Gertrude , tremulously: “ O, Fanny, you do believe 
it. You know you do. Of course he knows, or he 
would not have spoken that way. Oh, dear ! What 
shall we do ? If we had only given them back and 
acknowledged the whole affair in the first place ! 
But now they will never believe but that we really 
meant to steal them.” 

Fanny: “Pooh! Gertrude, I don’t believe they 
ever will think that. But we certainly ought to do 
something with those things ; though what , I’m sure 
I don’t know.” They have started on again, now, 
and come immediately to the opening through which 
the ledge of rocks, and the Professor still standing 
thereon, is visible. They halt again, thrown sud- 
denly into renewed consternation. Professor Pep- 
pered is standing some distance up the rocks, just 
where the boys left him, and with his back turned 
toward the wood, is still gloating over his “prize.” 
The girls gaze at him for a moment as at an appari- 
tion. Then Fanny recovers her faculties so far as to 
whisper, “ Oh, dear, it is the detective ! What is he 
doing here? ” 

Gertrude: “Why, don’t you see? They have just 
left him ; and they have been talking it over together. 
Probably they’ve been down examining the scene of 
the robbery and — Oh, I knew it! It is something 
that he has told them that made them say what they 
did about the things. Fanny, you may depend upon it, 
all is lost. We can;^ deceive an officer of the law, 
a trained detective.” 


Fanny , who has been watching the Professor mean- 
while : “ What is it he has there, do you think ? — 

that he is looking at so closely. Gertrude” — she 
turns upon her friend with solemn horror — “ do you 
suppose he has found something in the road there 
where we robbed them ? — something that we dropped? 
I have missed one of my silver earrings for the last 
day or two, and I may have lost it that night. I’ve 
a great mind to steal up behind him and see.” She 
fixes her eyes upon the Professor a moment longer 
and then turns resolutely to her cousin. “ Gertrude, 
I must find out what he has there. I can’t endure 
this suspense a moment longer. I am going to inter- 
view him. Come ? ” With heroic firmness she steps 
forth into the opening, and Gertrude, summoning all 
her courage, follows. They advance with beating 
hearts, though with tolerable outward composure, to 
the foot of the rocks, where they halt and look up at 
the Professor — he being even yet blissfully uncon- 
scious of their presence. 

iv. 

The same with Professor Pepperell. 

Fanny, wishing to atttract attention before speak- 
ing : “Ahem! Ahem!” She waits a moment and 
then repeats the sound somewhat more vehemently : 
“ Ahem /” At this last explosion the Professor starts 
and looks around instantly, upon seeing the girls, 
thrusting his precious stone into the bag again. 
Neither this movement nor the exultant glow upon 
his face escape the notice of the girls. Fanny 
smiles, and bows to him with seductive sweetness, 
although trembling inwardly all the while. “ Good 
morning, Professor Pepperell.” Gertrude also bows 
and smiles, though with but sorry grace. 

The Professor, taking off his hat and bowing low 
with all the gallantry of a true ladies’ man : “ Ah ! 

good morning, young ladies. You have chosen a 
delightful morning for your early walk.” 

Fanny : “ Yes, indeed ! And we have been well 

repaid for getting up and coming out — as, we trust, 
has also been the case with you.” 

The Professor, enthusiastically, rubbing his hands 
together : “Ah! indeed, indeed I have ! most amply 
repaid.” He lays his hand tenderly upon the bag at 
his side, unconsciously connecting it with his words. 

Fanny , whose quick eye detects the motion, giving 
a little gasp : “ Ah ! ” Then, in a swift whisper to 

Gertrude : “ He has got it ! I am sure he has. 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


There is a quaver in her voice that she in vain seeks 
to control as she continues, rather feebly, to the Pro- 
fessor : “Then you — you have been repaid? We 
are so glad ! ” Another hypocritical smile. 

The Professor , too full of his own joyful emotions 
to be closely observant of those of other people : 
“ Yes, indeed ! I have this morning found some- 
thing that, if it turns out as I believe it will, will lead 
to the discovery ” — He suddenly stops himself and 
looks earnestly and in some embarrassment at the 
two girls, as though uncertain how far he ought or 
safely may confide in them. They, however, more 
than ever alarmed by these last words, scarcely notice 
his interruption of himself. 

Fanny , laying her hand upon that of Gertrude, 
speaking in a tremulous whisper : “ O, Gertrude ! ” 

Gertrude, returning the pressure : “ O, Fanny ! ” 

Professor Pepperell, apparently reassured as to his 
audience, and going quickly on : “ Ah, my dear young 
ladies, it is not alone, let me assure you, in the 
crowded cities, among the marts of trade, at busy 
places of exchange, where stealing and plundering is, 
alas ! so constantly indulged in ” — 

Gertrude , convulsively plucking Fanny by the 
sleeve and speaking aside to her friend : “ Stealing 

and plundering ! Oh, dear ! ” Fanny returns there- 
for a glance quite as sympathizing and expressive as 
any words could be. 

The Professor : — “ and are indeed, one might say, 
almost the condition of the acquirement of wealth ; 
it is not there alone, let me say to you, my dear young 
ladies, that wealth really is to be obtained. No; but 
here, eve'n among these solitudes, these lonely rocks 
and hills, even among yonder woods and upon the de- 
serted highway beyond ” — Here his attentive auditors 
nod dumbly and again exchange horrified glances — 
“ there exists most priceless treasure for those who 
rightly know how to value and possess themselves of 
it.” He pauses at this point in his somewhat labored 
and not very intelligible harangue, looking down at 
them for a moment very much as he may be accus- 
tomed to look down upon his pupils in class-room at 
the end of what he considers an unusually fine sen- 
tence. The Professor has clearly a passion for 
oratory. 

Fanny, to Gertrude, very much bewildered and 
distressed : “Oh, dear ! What does he mean by all 
that ? I don’t at all understand him. Do you ? ” 
Gertrude: “No: only of course he means us. 
He evidently knows everything. 


Fanny, in faltering accents, but still with wonder- 
ful determination, to the Professor: “Was this — 
this article that you found, was it an ear — was it 
anything that — that would prove ” — 

The Professor, triumphantly : “ Prove ! You may 

be sure it will prove all that needs to be known in 
the matter. It is the key of the whole sublime mys- 
tery — the answer to the conundrum of the ages. 
Ah, young ladies, you are interested in this great sub- 
ject. Of that I am assured. If I could only be cer- 
tain that I could trust you entirely — that I could 
speak freely ! I do feel certain of it as I look into 
your youthful, innocent faces, and yet, when I 
reflect that I have but just now had the best of 
reasons to know that youth may be treacherous ” — 
He pauses again, his face growing very dark. 

Fanny : “ O, sir, surely you do not suspect ” — 

The Professor, with terrible emphasis : “ Suspect ! 

Aye, I not only suspect, I know! Those boys” — 
Gertrude, raising her two hands : “ The boys ! 

What do. they say ? ” Then, straightway utterly 
cast down : “ Alas ! Then they do know, as they 

said.” 

The Professor, fiercely : “ Did they say they knew ? 

Then they said what was false. But it is true that 
they suspect. They learned enough this morning to 
arouse their suspicions and, I fear, give them direc- 
tion. Unless something is done at once ” — 

Fanny, imploringly : “ O, sir, what is to be done ? 

Only tell us and we will gladly do it. We would do 
anything to answer its not being known.” 

The Professor, thoughtfully passing his hand across 
his forehead : “I do not know. At least, I am 
not able to say at this moment. I am bewildered 
and confused myself. I must take time to think. 
Come to me later — this forenoon, perhaps. I will be 
alone upon the hotel piazza at eleven. I shall then 
be able to speak with greater confidence. Until then 
farewell ! Forgive me, but I must be alone for a 
little. I have need to think, I have need to think.” 
With a wave of the hand and a slight inclination of 
the head, he dismisses himself, and, turning away, 
marches slowly up the ledge, audibly communing with 
himself, and disappears over the top. 

Gertrude, watching him out of sight and then facing 
her friend in a dazed, wondering way, and speaking 
like a person in a dream : “ What a strange conver- 

sation — and how strangely he talked ! It is evident 
that he is a detective and that he has discovered 
something that points to us. He seems to have 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR . 


meant to tell us so much and yet not to tell us. 
Fnnny, I do not understand.” 

Fanny , after a short silence, unbending her brows 
a little : “I think I understand it, Gertrude. Yes,” 
— after a moment’s farther consideration — “yes, I 
think he made his meaning plain enough — as plain 
as it could be made under the circumstances. He 
meant, as you say, to give us to understand that he 
knew, and yet without saying so in so many words or 
talking openly of the matter at all. Didn’t you see 
how he persisted in talking blindly and half-pretend- 
ing to misunderstand us? /understand, Gertrude. 
It is just here. He is a kind-hearted man, and com- 
prehending — or guessing at, at least — the plight 
that we are in, he is willing to help us out of it. And 
yet, being a detective employed to come here in this 
way, he can't help us openly — nor, indeed, even talk 
openly with us about it at all. Yet he plainly gave 
us to understand — didn’t he? — that he knew, 
though the boys only suspected, and that if we would 
come to him by and by he would see what could be 
done. Yes” — after taking another moment to once 
more review the evidence — “yes, I am sure he meant 
us to understand that. I wish, though, he had settled 
it now. I am worried to death with this suspense. 
And I don’t see why he couldn’t have. I don’t see 


what he wanted time to think for. Unless ” — again 
she is in doubt for a moment, but then her face becomes 
suddenly illuminated with the light of perfect cer- 
tainty and satisfaction. “ Ah 1 That is what he 
meant. I thought there was something. Gertrude, 
he means us to bring him those things!” 

Gertrude, much perplexed : “ What? The stolen 

goods ? But — but, Fanny, he surely did not say so.” 

Fanny, severely : “Of course he didn’t say so ! He 
could not openly propose that , of all things — or even 
hint at it. But he meant it, Gertrude, you may 
depend upon it. He meant it when he said that he 
would see us again this forenoon — at eleven o’clock 
on the front piazza. What else could he have meant? 
He expects us to bring them to him there.” She 
looks at her friend who, even yet, appears not entirely 
able to take this view of the matter. “ Well, you 
will see, Gertrude, when we give them to him. He 
will take them and arrange it for us somehow. I am 
thankful that we are going to get rid of them. But 
we can’t stay here any longer. Aunt Evelyn will 
have a fit if we keep breakfast waiting. It is now 
ten minutes of eight ” — consulting her watch. “ Let’s 
see if we can get back to the house in ten minutes.” 
She takes Gertrude’s arm, and they turn back towards 
the cart-track, falling presently into a rapid walk. 


< 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 

{A Comedy.) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


IV.— RESTORING STOLEN GOODS. 


Fanny and Gertrude. 



A S the house 
clock 
strikes eleven, 
Fanny comes out 
of her room and 
down the hall 
stairs, at the foot 
of which Gertrude 
is waiting. They 
“an officer of the law.” speak in low, cau- 

tious voices ; and 

it is evident that business of great secrecy, as well 
as importance, is on hand. 

Gertrude , at once : “ Have you got them ? ” 

Fanny , nodding: “Yes; they are in my pocket.” 
Then she motions towards the door with her head. 
“ Is he out there still ? Is anybody else anywhere 
about ? ” 

Gertrude: “ Yes ; he is out there at the end of the 
piazza, asleep, I think, and not a soul else is to be 
seen.” 

Fanny : “ Very well. Then let’s go out at once 


and have it over with.” She moves toward the door, 
but stops a moment on the mat, laying her hand on 
her breast and breathing a heartfelt sigh. “ O, dear ! 
I’d rather be whipped than do it. It is such a deli- 
cate piece of business. What shall I say to him ? 
Of course he understands ; but of course, too, we are 
to act as though he did not understand. He is evi- 
dently very particular about that. Of course it would 
never do for an officer of the law openly to tempo- 
rize in this way with us and receive the stolen goods, 
and help us to conceal the fact that we stole them. 
Well” — another sigh — “I’ll have to depend upon 
the inspiration of the moment. I’ll say what comes 
to me. He will help me through somehow. Come 
along.” They go out. 


ii. 

The same with Professor Pepperell. 

The Professor, dressed now as upon his arrival at 
the hotel, is seated at one end of the piazza, evidently 
fast asleep (if sound is evidence to that effect), 
although his attitude is hardly one of repose. He 
is sitting bolt upright in his chair, and his head is 
inclined forward in most uncomfortable fashion upon 
his breast. A newspaper lies across his knees. The 
girls advance toward him on tiptoe, as if fearful of 
disturbing him, although it is for that very thing 
they have come out. They pause before him ; and 
Fanny, as usual, is the one to speak. 

Fanny , as if softly calling some one at a distance : 

“ Mr. ahem ! Professor Pepperell ! Professor 

Pepperell ! ” He does not hear, and she raises her 
voice, raising herself also on her toes, as she calls 
again, “ Professor PefpereW ! ” 

The Professor , at this second call starting up 
instantly and staring at them : “ What ! you are deter- 
mined to know what it is that I have discovered ? 
And you will publish it to the world, before — before ” 
— He stops and rubs his eyes. “ O, it is you ! I 
beg pardon, young ladies. I — I must have been 
asleep. I was dreaming, and thought you were 



MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED EOR. 


those graceless young men.” He makes a visible 
effort to collect his senses, taking his goggles from a 
chair beside him and adjusting them to their accus- 
tomed place. “ You — you are come about that mat- 
ter of which we were speaking this morning ? ” He 
is still only half awake, apparently, indeed, he hardly 
seems to become entirely so up to the very end of 
the brief interview which follows. 

Fanny, nervously : “ Yes, sir ; we have come to 
restore to you — or rather, to confess — that is ” — 
She hesitates and stammers sadly, as is but natural, 
perhaps, considering that she hardly knows what she 
has come to say, and is painfully aware that there is 
a great deal which she must not say — “ O, sir, we 
know it is a perfectly horrible and abominable thing 
that we have done, and what you must think of us 
for having done it, and how great a disgrace it would 
be if it became known — to say nothing of what 
we might be made to suffe? * for it. But we are sure 
that you will understand that it was all an accident 
— that we could not keep it — that we did not mean 
to do it ” — She delivers these last sentences very 
rapidly, almost hysterically ; and she looks up at 
him now well-nigh with tears in her eyes, holding up 
her clasped hands in mute supplication. Gertrude 
also, although standing by in silence, is watching her 
friend so closely, and with such complete sympathy, 
that she unconsciously assumes exactly the same 
attitude. 

The Professor, wrinkling his brow in perfect bewil- 
derment : “ What is it that you would tell me ? A 
‘ horrible thing ! ’ What do you mean ? ” Then, 
with quick indignation : “ Surely you have not be- 
trayed my confidence ? You have not been talking 
of this to those youths ? ” 

Fanny, shaking her head : “ O, no, indeed, sir — 
not that! We would not have them know for the 
world. It was of the thing itself — the — the — O, 
I know we ought not to speak of it — that it ought 
not to be mentioned at all between us — that if you 
are to do this great kindness for us and help us to 
conceal ” — once more she breaks off abruptly, 
marking the persistent expression of astonishment 
(prudently feigned, as she supposes) with which the 
Professor listens to her incoherent utterances. 
“ Well, sir, I will not speak of it, not another word. 
Forgive me ; but we could not help saying so much, 
in justification of ourselves. But of course you 
understand, sir, and it is only necessary for us to 
place in your hands these — these articles.” 


All this is poured forth so rapidly and with such 
increasing excitement and determination that the 
Professor is utterly unable to oppose to the torrent 
of her speech anything more than a dissenting gest- 
ure or two, nor has he, as yet, the slightest suspicion 
of her ultimate intention, as he sees her now swiftly 
draw from her pocket a gold watch and chain, a Rus- 
sia leather pocket-book, and several minor articles of 
jewelry, still excitedly speaking as she does so — 
“ and to ask you to — to take them, and to — re — 
to do with them as you think best.” 

As she thus at length comes to the end of this very 
singular speech of presentation, she suddenly bends 
forward and deposits the entire collection in the lap of 
the astonished gentleman ; and then, before he can 
find voice to utter a single word of protest or make 
any demand for explanation, she covers her face with 
her hands, and whirling about, both the girls hurry 
away as they have come, swiftly vanishing indoors. 

I he Professor, rising from his chair, with the news- 
paper containing the valuable collection of articles 
thus in spite of himself confided to his keeping, held 
out gingerly before him : “ Why ! why ! Bless my 

soul ! What in the name of all the Zan Zummins ! ” 
— He takes a single step after the girls, but at once 
realizes that pursuit is useless. “ Bless my soul and 
body and mind ! What can this mean ? Are they 
crazy — or am I?” He gazes stupidly at his new- 
gotten wealth. “They couldn’t have meant to make 
me a present of these. Can it be that there has been 
some misunderstanding? How strangely that young 
lady talked ! Can it be ” — He stands a moment, 
his hand pressed to his brow as if to clear his 
thoughts — “ Can it be that they have done some- 
thing wrong — committed some serious crime ? Is it 
possible that they have stolen these things, and that 
remorse has prompted them to this strange, this un- 
heard-of proceeding?” At that moment voices are 
heard in the direction of the bridge, and, looking up, 
he perceives Harry Gower and Folinsbee Smythe 
coming toward the house. At sight of them he 
straightens up with sudden access of dignity and 
reserve, and quickly drawing together the corners of 
the paper so as to enclose its contents in a sort of 
bag, he conveys it to the pocket of his coat. “ They 
must know nothing of this at any rate,” he mutters, 
“ curious, spying fellows that they are. I will put 
this evidently valuable and important property in a 
place of safety at once ; and I must say nothing to 
anybody of this mysterious matter until I have seen 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


those interesting, but I fear me, misguided young 
ladies again.” While speaking to himself thus he 
has been moving toward the door, and, with a distant 
bow to the boys as they at this moment come up the 
steps, he goes in. 

hi. 

Harry and Folinsbee. 

Harry , halting on the upper step, still supported 
by his crutches, but for the moment resting both feet 
upon the step : “ I shall be able to throw these con- 
founded (though, without doubt, very useful) things 
away in a day or two ; Folly, see there ! ” He lifts 
the crutches off the ground entirely for a second, 
standing on his feet. Then he resumes his “ three- 
legged mode of locomotion, stumping along the piazza 
toward where the Professor has been sitting. “ He 
doesn’t exactly seem to like us, Folly — our learned 
and distinguished friend. Did you see how he held 
his head up when he passed us ? — and what a ten- 
mile-off bow he gave us?” He laughs contempt- 
uously. 

Folinsbee , sauntering idly beside his friend : “He 
not only seems not to like us, but it looks to me as if 
he also suspected us. Or rather suspected that we sus- 
pected him. We ought to be careful how we treat him. 
We don’t want him to take the alarm, you know — at 
least not until I get back my things.” He seats him- 
self now in the Professor’s chair, rocking himself 
slightly and fanning himself with his hat. 

Harry, backing himself up to the piazza-railing 
and skilfully shifting himself from his crutches to a 
seat thereon, and by means of one of them easily 
balancing himseir there. “We’ll get back your 
things, my boy, never you fear, l .Jn’t I tell you I 
knew exactly where they were, and could lay my 
hands upon them at any moment ? ” 

Folly, discontentedly: “Then why don’t you do 
it ? I want them — to wear.” 

Harry: “ Well, but don't be in such a hurry. I 
want to lay hands on him as well as on them, too. 
Can’t you stand it to go about these solitudes a little 
while longer with your precious person unadorned ? 
Or are you afraid you will catch cold if you don’t have 
on your watch and chain and your diamond ring ? ” 
He looks his friend over good-humoredly as he speaks, 
carelessly dropping his eyes, at the last, to the floor 
beneath his chair. All at once he gives a start. 
“ Great Gumaribo ! ” 


Folinsbee, languidly : “ What’s the matter ? ” 

Harry, coolly: “Oh, nothing much.” He laughs 
softly. “ Perhaps you dpn’t believe that I do know 
where those things are ? ” 

Folinsbee, with a munificent yawn : “ Well, I con- 
fess that I should like something more than your 
constantly repeated assurance to that effect to con- 
vince me fully of the fact.” 

Harry, idly swinging one of his crutches before 
him : “ I suppose, then, you would believe it if I 
should show you one of them this minute ? — your 
diamond ring, for instance.” 

Folinsbee, with eyes half closed, still feebly fanning 
himself: “Yes; I should believe it, I suppose, if 
you could do that.” 

Harry: “Then, my dear fellow, will you be so 
good as to open your eyes for a moment and so modify 
the present graceful position of your body as to 
enable you to scan the floor beneath the chair in which 
you are sitting ? ” 

Folinsbee, opening his eyes, but otherwise making 
no move : “ What ? ” 

Harry, with sudden impatience : “ Confound you, 
Folly ! if it depended upon you to recover your prop- 
erty, you would go without it till doomsday. Get up 
out of that limp-lilly attitude, I say, and look under 
your chair. If that isn’t your diamond ring lying 
there, then I’m a — member of the bar.” 

Folinsbee, at once aware, now, that his companion 
is quite serious, jumping up with alacrity to obey, 
and the next moment emerging from beneath the 
chair with his long-lost ring in his hand : “ Well, I 
declare ! I do declare ! It is it, as true as I live ! ” 
He loses no time in replacing it upon his finger ; 
after that, he holds it off a moment, gazing upon it 
with fond delight, and then, seizing the hand that 
wears it, he presses the glittering jewel again and 
again to his lips : “You little beauty ! You precious 
darling ! How perfectly enraptured I am to get you 
back again ! How did you come there, pray ? And 
where are your companions ? ” He glances beneath 
the chair again as if expecting to see the rest of his 
lost property. 

Harry, his disgust at his friend’s absurd perform- 
ance plainly appearing in his tone : “ How did it 

come there ! How do you suppose it came there ? 
It was dropped there by our venerable friend, Pro- 
fessor Wig-and-goggles, not five minutes ago. I 
thought he had something of the sort in his hands. 
And as for the rest of your things ” — He breaks off 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED EOR. 



abruptly, raising his eyebrows and making a comical 
face while he casts a sidewise glance at the subject 
of his remarks, who at that instant comes out of the 
front door again, armed with a cane and evidently 
going for a walk. The Professor does not deign to 
look in their direction, but passing down the steps, 
turns up the road, walking rapidly away. Harry, 
rigidly maintaining the expression of countenance he 
has assumed, slowly turns his head, following the 
pedestrian with his eyes for a moment. Then turn- 
ing back to his friend, he raises his fingers signifi- 
cantly, and in a low, emphatic tone, concludes his 


house looking toward the woods to the south. It is 
furnished with a modern chamber set of a highly 
ornamental but not very costly pattern. On a peg in 
the door of aa open clothespress the working-suit 
in which the Professor had made his morning excur- 
sion, surmounted by the black hat with the withered 
fern still gracing its band, is hung, looking not 
unlike the eccentric gentleman himself ignomini- 
ously suspended on a nail. The shoes, however, 
which would be needed, perhaps, to finish off the 
effigy, stand side by side upon the floor beneath ; an 
enormous pair of brogans sadly in need of cleansing. 


interrupted observation ! “ I’ll show you where the 

rest of ’em are, as soon as that rascally land pirate 
gets out of sight. You just wait a minute, and then 
come with me.” 

IV. 

Harry and Folinsbee. 

Two minutes later the boys have softly made their 
way up-stairs, and, finding the door of the Professor’s 
room ajar, have entered it, closing the door and 
breathlessly pausing to look around them. The 
room is in the second story and on the side of the 


In one corner of the room, half hidden by the chim- 
ney, stands the large iron bound chest, the mere 
looking upon which might well make one’s shoulders 
ache, so massive and heavy does it appear. It is 
toward this chest that Harry, after a moment, reso- 
lutely makes his way. 

Harry , after carelessly trying the lid and finding it 
locked : “ Ah ! I thought as much.” 

Folinsbee , disappointed : “ Is it locked ? Oh, 

dear.” 

Harry: “Locked? Of course it’s locked. I’m 
glad of it, too. It’s being locked is a sure sign 
they’re in it. You just wait.” He puts his hand in 


HARRY AND FOLINSBEE INVESTIGATE. 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


his pocket, drawing forth a bunch of keys and select- 
ing one. “Just you wait until we give the old Fit-all 
a try. This key was one that formerly belonged to 
Sixteen-stringed Jack himself. It is warranted to 
unlock anything. “ He lays his crutches one side, 
and getting down on his knees glances into the key- 
hole and then proceeds to try his key, which after 
a variety of ingenious twists is actually made to turn 
the bolt. Ah, my beauty ! My darling ! ” He draws 
the key out and kisses it rapturously, by way of par- 
ody on his friend’s devotion to his ring. “ I knew 
you would not fail me.” Then he throws open the 
lid of the chest and they both eagerly regard its con- 
tents. The first thing visible is what seems to be a 
suit of clothes, of coarse material, badly and pecu- 
liarly stained, which seems to have been thrown into 
the chest as a covering for what may lie beneath. 
Harry takes up its most considerable part, a sort 
of blouse or jacket. Beneath this, after some pieces 
of linen, a shaving case and a number of other 
articles such as one might commonly take upon a 
journey, they come presently upon a hammer. 

Folinsbee , with awe : “ What’s that ? A hammer ? ” 

Harry , laconically : “ Yes, that’s what he brains 

his victims with. O, you needn’t be alarmed.” He 
lays the hammer beside the other things and dives 
into the chest again. This time he pulls out a huge 
piece of rock. He holds it up to the light, laughing 
noiselessly. Shades of Americus Vespucius ! What 
has he got this for ? ” He peers down into the chest. 
“ Why, there’s a dozen of ’em ! What can he do with 
them, Folly ? ” O, it must be that he means to make 
the hotel keepers think he has something valuable in 
his trunk. That’s the way all these fellows do who 
mean to go off without paying their board.” He 
renews his investigations. “ Bother it ! Where can 
they be all this while. I know they are here. Ah ! 
Here’s his canvas bag. It’s empty, though. What’s 
this? There’s something in here, I’ll be bound.” 
He takes out a moderate-sized pasteboard box 
which, upon the removal of the cover, appears to be 
crammed full of newspaper. Then opening this 
paper : “ Eureka /” he exclaims in sudden and violent 
excitement. “ Here they are, Folly, as sure as twelve 
eggs make a dozen. By the great horn spoon ! I 
knew it ! ” He hands his friend the paper, with the 
watch, pocketbook, etc., plainly to be seen lying in it. 
“ Ho ! Ho ! Wh'at do you think now , about sending 
for a detective ? ” He looks at his friend with an 
air of triumph and self-appreciation which, under 


the circumstances, is perhaps altogether excusable. 

Folinsbee, who eagerly seizing the paper has taken 
out his watch therefrom, and is holding it up by the 
chain: “ My beautiful monogram watch ! Howl” — 

Harry, cutting him short in profound disgust : 
“ Oh, say now, if you’re going through another such 
performance as you did a few minutes ago over your 
ring, Tm going to withdraw. I can’t stand it — upon 
my word, I can’t. It’s too touching. Why, there 
wouldn’t be a dry eye in the room.” 

Folinsbee : “ But you don’t know how I have missed 
it and how happy I am to see it once more.” He 
lays the watch caressingly against his cheek. “ At 
any rate” — consolingly addressing himself to it — 
“ I promise you that I never part with you again, so 
long as we shall both live.” He makes a movement 
to pass the bar of the chain through his button-hole. 

Harry, peremptorily: “Hold on there. Just put 
that right back in the paper where you took it from.” 
Then, rather more mildly: “You will have to part 
with it again, my dear fellow, and at once. It won’t 
do to take the things away. If he should come back 
and find them gone, we shall find him gone very 
shortly thereafter, you may be sure. No ; we must 
put them back in the chest just as we found them — 
and all these other things with them. We’ve got him 
now, sure ; don’t you see ? We’ll go for a constable at 
once and let him search this trunk and find the stolen 
things in it. That’s the way, if we want to convict him.” 

Folinsbee, still clinging to his property : “ But I 

don’t want to leave them here. I’ve got them, and 
why shouldn’t I keep them ? They are mine, and I 
don’t care so much about him.” 

Harry, sharply: “Well, I care about him. It is 
not merely to get back your rings and bangles that 
I’ve been working for all this time. I want the one 
who stole them. And I’ve got him now, too, by as 
pretty a piece of detective work as you are likely to 
see. This will do to tell in Boston. Come, give ’em 
here ! He takes the paper ruthlessly from his friend’s 
reluctant hands. “ And we mustn’t stay here any 
longer either. If he should come back and catch us, it 
would spoil it all. Come, let’s put the things back.” 
He carefully replaces, first the box with the stolen 
articles packed in it, and then all the other things as 
nearly as possible as they were found. Then, lock- 
ing the chest again with the wonderful key, the two 
listening a moment to make sure that no one is in the 
hall, depart as stealthily as they have come. 

(TO BE CONTINUED.) 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 

(A Comedy.) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


VI. — A GENERAL CLEARING UP OF MAT- 
TERS. 

MRS. OKIE, AN DR EWES and MR. MUGGS. 


T HE three are once more together in the hotel 
parlor as on the night of the robbery, though 
it is now just before the dinner hour. Mrs. Okie is 
impatiently walking up and down the room; An- 
dre wes sits with folded hands, and Mr. Muggs 
stands near the door in his usual free-and-easy atti- 
tude, whistling to himself and keeping careful time 
with the handful of coins in his pocket. 

Mrs. Okie , nervously intertwining her fingers as 
she walks and speaking in her most querulous tones : 
“ I declare, I never saw anything like it, the way 
people don't come to their meals in this house. It 
is the worst thing in the world for people’s health, 
this eating so irregularly. I don’t know what has got 
into them all to-day. Mr. Gower and Mr. Smythe 
have gone off for a ride, you say ; Professor Pepper- 
ell is off by himself, somewhere ; and Fanny and 
Gertrude have locked themselves in their room and 
insist upon it that they don’t want any dinner. 
They do want some dinner! Andrewes, you go up 
again and tell them that they do want some din- 
ner.” 

Mr. Muggs, hastening the time of his tune a little 
in order to reach the end of a strain, and then calmly 
replying : “O, I guess there ain’t no need of frettin’, 
Mis’ Okie. ’Tain’t half-past one yet ; an’ they’ll be 
here pretty quick. We’ll keep things hot for ’em a 
little while longer.” 

Mrs. Okie, with strong feeling: “Yes; you will not 
only keep them hot, but you will bake them almost to a 
cinder. Mr. Muggs, I cannot have my things cooked 
so much. Beef \ of all meats, should be eaten rare. 
Any doctor will tell you so. I declare, I’ve a great 
mind to write a paper to be read before the Appa- 
lachian Club about the way they do over-cook their 
meats in these mountain hotels.” 


Mr. Muggs, soothingly : “ Wall, Mis’ Okie, I 
wouldn’t git worked up ’bout it, ’f I was you. 
Tain’t no use walking up and down the room that 
way, tirin’ yourself all out.” 

Mrs. Okie, greatly exasperated: “Walking up 
and down the room ! I would like to know, Mr. 
Muggs, where else I am to walk. You certainly would 
not have me go out doors to take my exercise when 
the house is known to be completely surrounded by 
highwaymen and marauders. I haven’t dared set 
my foot on the piazza, hardly, since that dreadful 
robbery. I don’t know what you are ^11 thinking of, 
being so indifferent about it and going in and out 
exactly as you did before. It is what I call tempting 
Providence, after so plain a warning as we have had. 
You all seem to have forgotten that there has been a 
robbery. But / haven’t forgotten it. And I think 
it very strange that those young gentlemen have not 
done something towards discovering the robbers and 
getting back their property. I should like to ask 
them — ” 

Mr. Muggs, who, at the sound of wheels outside 
has gone to the window : “ Here they are now, Mis’ 
Okie, if you want to ask them anything.” Then, 
after a moment : “ An’ true as I’m a voter, they’ve got 
somebody with ’em. It must be a new boarder. 
Gracious t’ Sassafrax ! I’d like to know where I’m 
going to put him. No tain’t neither, after all. It’s 
nobody but Job Meachem, the Pigwacket constable. 
What’s he want up here ? Lookin’ arter them robbers 
that’s surrounded the house, I guess, Mis’ Okie.” 
He chuckles to himself. “ I guess he’s the detective 
they was goin.’ t’ send for so fast. Guess they’re goin’ 
to do somethin’ ’bout it arter all.” He leaves the 
window as he is speaking, and goes out into the hall. 

ii. 

MR. MUGGS, HARRY, FOLINSBEE, MR. MEACHEM a?ld, 

a little later, professor pf.pperell. 

The new comers have alighted from the wagon, 
and, leaving the horse to Jared, now come up on the 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


piazza where they are met by Mr. Muggs. The con- 
stable is a silent, stolicl-looking man, one of those 
officers, apparently, who have no thought outside of 
their specific duty, but who can be depended upon 
to do that, though the heavens fall. 

Harry , who has come up the steps upon his 
crutches two at a time, and somewhat in advance of 
his companions : “ Well, Mr. Muggs, we are sorry to 
be late to dinner: but the fact is, we have had other 
and more important fish to fry. Where is the Pro- 
fessor ? ” He means to speak carelessly but in spite 
of himself he puts the question eagerly and almost 
with an air of demand. 

Mr. Muggs , coolly : “ The Professor ? What d’ye 
want o’ him , I sh’ like to know. Ye don’t want 
t’ arrest him, do ye ? ” ’ 

Harry , grimly : “ Never you mind what we want of 
him. Where is he, I say.” Evidently the lad is 
laboring under some strong excitement which he 
still strives to suppress. There is a dangerous glitter 
in his eyes and he looks as if he were quite pre- 
pared, if need be, to spring at somebody’s throat. 
He seems to have worked himself up a good deal dur- 
ing the last hour or two. 

Mr. Muggs, still without any show of emotion : “ I 
d’ know where he is. He went off t’ walk a while ago 
an’ ain’t got back. I c’n send one o’ th’ men after 
him, ’f ye want him so very bad.” 

Harry, brusquely : “ No, you don’t, sir. We won’t 
have any of that, if you please.” Then he approaches 
his face a little nearer to that of the landlord and 
speaks in a low, intense voice : “ Look here, Mr. 
Muggs, we don’t know how far you may or may not 
be mixed up in this business. But we don’t propose 
to have any humbug. We have come to arrest your 
Professor ; and if you make a single move to warn him 
or leave the place yourself, we’ll arrest you too. The 
constable has his orders. Meanwhile ” — he turns to 
Meachem — “Mr. Meachem, the person we came to 
see is out just now. He will probably be in soon. 
And while we are waiting, you might as well step up 
stairs and make that investigation we spoke of. 
Folly, here, you take the key ” — he produces his 
bunch of keys — “ and go with him and show him — 
you understand what. And you may bring ’em down 
with you this time. I will stay here and see to things. 
If I want anything” — a significant look at the land- 
lord — “I will whistle.” 

Folinsbee : “Very well. Come, Mr. Meachem, this 
way, if you please.” He leads the way indoors, the 


constable silently falling in behind him. They have 
scarcely disappeared when the Professor himself is 
seen coming down the road at a brisk gait, swinging 
his cane and quite unsuspicious of the reception which 
is preparing for him. Harry, as he perceives him, 
turns again to the landlord. 

Harry : “Now, look here, Mr. Muggs; it may or 
may not be news to you that that man coming there 
is the same one who stopped and robbed us down 
the road the other night. But z^know it, and we can 
prove it. And we think we have pretty good 
reason to suspect that you know it too. But whether 
you do or not ” — he shakes his finger threaten- 
ingly — “if you say a single word or make a single 
motion to put him on his guard or let him know what 
we are here for, I — I’ll give you the full benefit of 
one of these crutches you have been so good as to 
provide me with ! I will, as sure as my name is Henry 
Worthington Gower ! ” He raises one of the crutches 
in a manner that leaves no doubt as to the sincerity 
of his words “ I’m going to keep him down-stairs a 
moment, unul they get through searching his trunk.” 

Mr. Muggs, except for a faint smile on his lips and 
a more than ordinarily energetic jingling of his 
coins, seeming still to be quite unmoved : “ Wall, now, 
my young friend, ’t looks t’ me ’s though you’s kind 
o’ drivin’ your horses a leetle faster’n th’ law allows, 
accusin’ people right an’ left in this wholesale kind o’ 
fashion. But if ye want to arrest anybody, / hain’t 
no objection. You’ll hew the costs to pay an’ not me. 
I never was arrested in my life, myself, an’ I’d kind 
o’ like t’ know how it feels. As for the Professor, ef 
ye want t’ arrest him , I don’t know’s I’ve any objec- 
tion to that, either. I’ll jes’ stan’ by ’n see the fuji.” 

Harry, more calmly, though with unabated deter- 
mination : “ Very well, see that you don’t do any 

more than that.” They remain silent a moment. 
The Professor is now very near and presently comes 
up the steps. He bows frigidly to Harry and with a 
nod to the landlord is about to pass on to his room 
when Harry addresses him. “Professor Peppered, a 
— a gentleman has just called here to see you — on 
important business. If you will step into the parlor 
he will be down at once. He has gone up stairs a 
moment to — to prepare himself.” All this in as 
bland a manner as, under the circumstances, the lad 
is able to assume. 

The Professor , halting in some surprise : “ A gen- 

tleman to see me ? Why, who can it be ? Nobody 
can have come here to see me — unless — ” He looks 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


up at Harry with a swift suspicion. The latter, con- 
scious of the deception he is practising, turns an 
honest red in spite of himself. “ Ha ! young gen- 
tleman, can it be that you have so soon acted upon 
your suspicions and that he is already here ? ” He 
at once becomes greatly agitated and trembles visibly. 

Harry , excitedly : “ Well, then, since you seem 

to know all about it — yes, sir, that is just what we 
have done, and he is here. Your game is up, my 
dear Professor. Everything is known, and you may 
as well submit to your fate. You can’t possibly 
escape, you know.” 

The Professor : “ Escape ! ” His lip curls and he 

raises his head proudly. “ Since he has chosen to 
follow me here, you may be certain, sir, that I shall 
not condescend to avoid him. Allow me to pass, if 
you-please.” He motions Harry aside with a digni- 
fied gesture. “ I will await him in the parlor. I 
shall be glad to tell him what I think of such treach- 
erous and unprofessional ” — The remainder of his 
words are not distinctly audible as he enters the 
hall and crosses the threshold of the parlor. A 
moment later the constable and Folinsbee are heard 
coming down the stairs again. 

hi. 

Mrs. Okie and Andrewes, Professor Pepperell, 
Harry and Folinsbee, Mr. Meachem and 
Mr. Muggs. 

The professor is sitting, hat and cane in hand, 
talking with Mrs. Okie (who is now also seated) when 
the two boys with the constable, followed leisurely by 
Mr. Muggs, enter the parlor. Folinsbee has in his 
hands the pasteboard box containing the stolen arti- 
cles. The Professor rises haughtily as they appear, 
but as he sees Mr. Meachem, his countenance changes 
its expression to one of questioning perplexity. 

Harry, advancing to the middle of the room and 
halting there, resting on his crutches and bowing to 
Mrs. Okie : “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Okie, for our 
coming in here in this way and on such business ; but 
it is business that you are also somewhat interested 
in as a boarder here. That person there ” — motion- 
ing with his head toward the Professor — “is a thief 
and an impostor. It was he who robbed us the other 
night in the woods. Mr. Meachem, there is your 
man.” He steps back a little, looking toward the 
constable and then back to Professor Pepperell ; and 
he adds with a grin of affectation of ceremony : “ Pro- 


fessor Pepperell, I will make you acquainted with Mr. 
Meachem, one of the authorities of Pigwacket Vil- 
lage. “Mr. Meachem at the same moment steps for- 
ward in a business-like way, and lays his hand on the 
Professor’s shoulder. Mrs. Okie has risen from her 
chair and regards the proceeding with wonder and 
alarm. 

The Professor , looking very much bewildered, half 
holding out his hand as the constable advances and 
then, as he drops it, stammering out : “ Meachem ? 

I — I do not know the name. I expected to see Dr. 
Witherspoon. Are you, sir, a representative of that 
person ? ” 

Mr. Meachem , not heeding these words in the 
slightest degree, but proceeding straightway with his 
duty, speaking in a tone officially impressive : “ I 

arrest you, sir, in the name of the Law, and on a 
charge of stopping and robbing certain individuals in 
the public highway.” 

Th$ Professor, in increasing amazement and dis- 
tress : “ Arrest me ! Robbing on the public high- 

way ! Merciful Powers ! What terrible blunder is 
this ? Sir, you are mistaken in the person. I am 
Professor Palinurus Pepperell.” 

Mrs. Okie, with imposing mien : “Yes; there is 
certainly some mistake here, my good man. This 
gentleman, as he tells you, is Professor Pepperell, of 
X University.” 

Mr. Meachem, nodding gravely: “Yes, ma’am; 
that’s the name in the warrant, here. I can read 
it to you if you like.” He produces a paper. 

The Professor, looking wildly about him : “ But — 
but — /have committed no robbery. I am — ahem! 
— a humble professor of Geology and Antediluvian 
History, who have come to this spot on important but 
strictly private business. What does this mean, sir ? 
At whose instigation am I thus accused — and on 
what grounds ? ” He turns fiercely upon Harry. 
“ Young sir, you are at the bottom of this — you and 
your companion there! This is some trick — some 
hoax — some silly, impudent joke of yours ! ” 

Harry, coolly : “ Well, Professor ( I don’t know 

what else to call you as yet, so I’ll still call you that) 
I think you will find out very soon that there isn’t 
much joke about it. And as for the grounds upon 
which you are accused, why, 77/ tell you, and this 
whole company, if you please, what they are. You 
probably are aware, sir (you certainly ought to be, 
since you were present on that highly interesting 
occasion and took a prominent part in the proceed- 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


ings), that my friend iiere and myself were stopped 
last Monday night on our way to this hotel and robbed 
of a watch and chain, pocket-book and money, a 
diamond ring and some other things. Well, we rec- 
ognize you as the head one of the robbers. We k?iow 
you! We can take our oath as to your identity. 
And if the constable there will just take off your 
goggles and wig for you — ” 

The Professor , clutching desperately at his hair : 
“ Take off my wig ! Never ! ” 

Harry, going on without heeding this outburst : — 
“ we should then see, no doubt, that you are by no 
means what you pretend to be. And more than all 
that, the stolen goods have been found in your posses- 
sion. The constable has just searched that strong 
box of yours and found them stowed away in the 
bottom of it. If that isn’t proof enough all together, 
I’d like to know what is ! Here, Folly ” — he swings 
himself around and addresses Folinsbee — “bring 
’em on. And you can tell the rest of it, if you like.” 

Folinsbee, stepping forward to a more central posi- 
tion, box in hand, and making a bow that includes all 
present : “Yes, good people, these articles of jewelry 
that you see here ” — he now takes the paper from 
the box, and opening it displays the watch and other 
things enclosed — “ this elegant ( if I do say it ) 
monogram watch, this pocket-book, this scarf-pin, and 
this solitaire diamond on my finger, were all taken 
from me by force — by brute force — on the night 
mentioned. And it is only to-day that they have 
been restored to me. They have just been found 
locked up in the trunk of this — this person, who on 
our complaint is thus arrested. If he did not obtain 
this property in the manner I have stated, let him 
tell us, now, how it did come into his possession.” 
He looks scornfully at the Professor, pausing a 
moment to give that gentleman opportunity to speak. 

The Professor, certainly with anything but the bear- 
ing of innocence : “ Are — do you mean to say that 
those are the articles that were taken from you ? ” 
Harry, sternly : “ Yes, sir ; those are the articles. 
How did you come by them ? ” 

The Professor, in faltering accents : “ Merciful 
Powers ! Can it be possible that ” — his voice sinks 
so as to be distinctly audible to none but himself — 
“ that those young ladies have been guilty of so 
violent and terrible a crime as this ! It cannot be ! 
And yet — and yet — their manner this morning — 
their anxiety — their very words ! it must be so.” 
Harry, roughly : “ Come, sir ; speak up, if you 


please. What have you to say for yourself ? Where 
did you get those things ?” 

The Professor, mournfully shaking his head : “ Alas ! 
I cannot tell you. I dare not tell you. They were 
left in my charge — confided to me by those whom — 
unfortunate, mistaken, erring though they may be — 
yet whom I cannot believe to be as sinful as they — as 
this would make them appear.” 

Harry, derisively : “ O, you cannot tell ! They 
were confided to your charge ! And by persons who 
were innocent ! My dear sir, whom do you take us 
to be that you expect to palm off such nonsense as 
that upon us ? Who gave them to you, pray ? ” 

The Professor, firmly compressing his lips : “ I 



JUST OUTSIDE THE DOOR. 


cannot tell who it was — not now. I am sure it would 
not be right. No ! I will go to a dungeon first ! ” 
Harry : “Yes, I fancy you will.” He turns to all 
present. “ My friends, you see, I suppose, that it is 
a clear case against this gentleman. We are ready 
to go into court and swear to his identity ; and here 
are the stolen goods themselves, actually found in 
his possession. Mr. Meachem, you may as well take 
him away.” He motions to the constable, and that 
functionary again lays his hand upon the shoulder 
of his prisoner. At this instant, however, an inter- 
ruption occurs. The dining-room door is thrown 
violently open and two farther persons — Miss Fanny 
Meserole and Miss Gertrude Emmons — enter. 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 

(A Comedy .) 


By Charles R. Talbot. 


VI.— A GENERAL CLEARING UP OF MAT- 
TERS. ( Concluded .) 

I. 

The same with Fanny and Gertrude. 

Fanny , advancing into the circle, and as she pres- 
ently pauses, her cousin Gertrude close behind her, 
seeming about to sink down beneath the burden of 
her emotions : “ O, Professor ! — O, aunt Evelyn ! — O 
Mr. Gower ! It is all a mistake — a dreadful, dread- 
ful mistake. We are the guilty ones. We committed 
the robbery. The Professor is not guilty. We gave 
him the things : we thought he was a detective. 
Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! What shall we do ! ” She covers 
her face with her hands and bows her head before 
them all, for the moment entirely overcome with her 
shame and misery. 

Harry, staring at her in amazement: “What — 
in — North — America — does this mean ! ” 

Folinsbee: “Good gracious! Have we all really 
lost our wits ? ” He stands with widely opened eyes, 
himself, for one, a very fair answer to his own question. 

Mrs. Okie, stepping forward to the side of her 
niece and taking her hand : “ Fanny, what do you 
mean ? Gertrude, what does it mean ? ” 

Gertrude, who at this trying moment seems pos- 
sessed of the greater firmness of the two : “ It 
means, aunt Evelyn, that Fanny and I have been 
guilty of a very foolish thing, and are wholly respon- 
sible for all this trouble. We did commit that rob- 
bery — if robbery it really was. We thought that 
you and Andrewes were in the wagon that night; 
and we dressed ourselves up as robbers and stopped 
it — just to frighten you. And then, before we could 
find out our mistake, these gentlemen — or one of 
them — had handed over his watch and money — he 
certainly parted with them very readily” — a pointed 
glance at Folinsbee — “and — and — well, that is the 
whole story. We were very much frightened, of 
course, when we found out the truth, and we have 
been on pins and needles ever since for fear we 


should be found out. And when the Professor came 
here, we thought that he was a detective in disguise 
(Mr. Gower had said that he should send for a 
detective — and there were a great many other 
things that made us think so) and we finally made 
up our minds that he knew all about it and that the 
best thing to do would be to return the watch and 
things to him and get out of the difficulty in that 
way, without anybody else knowing anything about 
it. We thought he understood it, without our speak- 
ing about it plainly. But it seems he wasn’t a detect- 
ive at all, and that Mr. Gower and his friend have 
taken him all the while for the highwayman — and he, 
rather than tell where he got the things and betray us, 
is really willing to go to jail. We have been in the 
dining-room all the time and heard it all. It was 
very noble in him, and we thank him heartily. 
But of course we could not keep silent and let them 
do that to him. It is we who are guilty if anybody 
is guilty. Of course we did not mean to commit a 
robbery, but we — we are willing to take the — the 
consequences of — wh-what we did, wh-whatever 
they may be.” Her voice grows rather tremu- 
lous here. “ It is our names that should be in the 
warrant and not Professor PepperelPs. We — we 
have come to — to g-give ourselves up.” She 
ceases, looking up bravely at Harry, whom she 
seems to regard as the chief representative of the 
Prosecution in the case. Fanny, with somewhat 
recovered composure, has now arrayed herself at her 
cousin’s side and they stand together, a very pretty, 
but none the less a terror-stricken and guilty pair. 

Harry, who has listened to this account, of course, 
with the deepest astonishment, but by this time has, 
so to speak, been able to “get it through” his head, 
and finds it necessary now to give vent to his feel- 
ings : “ Do you mean to tell us that you were the 
robbers? ” He regards the two girls with emotions 
of such variety and intensity that, for a few seconds, 
they again render him speechless. Then: “Well, if 
ever there was a pair of double-dyed, addle-pated, 
first-class A One idiots ” — 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


Mrs . Okie, fiercely confronting him : “ Sir ! ” 

Harry , going on to complete his remark: “ — it 
is your humble servant, and his promising friend 
here, Mr. Folinsbee Smythe. Arrest you ! Not we ! 
We’ll go and get ourselves arrested — and put in 
some orphan asylum or Home for Incurable Imbe- 
ciles. And it was only this morning I was congrat- 
ulating myself on the pretty piece of detective work 
I had done. I say, Folly, this will be a nice story to 
tell in Boston, won’t it?” He looks at the girls 
again, seeming to marvel anew at the whole matter : 
“ I vow, I can hardly realize it now ! ” 

Fanny, who seems by this time to have recovered, 


utter humiliation. “ Professor Peppered, I want to 
beg your pardon. I took you for a highwayman. I 
acknowledge my error. I never was more mistaken 
in my life — except when I took myself for a person 
of average intelligence. But I hope you will for- 
give me. You see yourself that I’m not a responsi- 
ble person.” 

The Professor, slowly : “ Then you are not sent 
here by ” — He hesitates, ponders the matter an 
instant longer, and then his face clears. “ Forgive 
you, my young friend ! Of course I’ll forgive you. 
I am sure that putting it all together, it was the 
most natural mistake in the world. So you took me 



A TERROR-STRICKEN AND GUILTY PAIR. 


in a great measure, her wonted assurance, looking 
back at him mischievously : “ Realize what, Mr. 
Gower ? Your imbecility ? ” 

Harry, smiling now ; “ No ; but your depravity — 
yours and Miss Emmons’s. I little supposed that 
you would turn out hardened criminals. As for my 
imbecility” — with a violent return of self-contempt, 
— “I think I quite realize that.” Then, remembering 
now the Professor, who, standing by himself, seems 
still to be hopelessly puzzling over the whole matter, 
he starts across to him and, seizing that gentleman’s 
unresisting hand, bows himself over it in abject and 


for a robber, did you ? Ah ! I see. Ha, ha, ha ! 
You thought that was the business I came here for? 
I see, I see ! ” As he recalls what has passed be- 
tween himself and the boys, he comprehends more 
and more clearly the mistakes that have been made. 
Then he adds : “ Indeed, I ought to beg your par- 
don, I think, for taking you for spies of my ancient 
rival and fellow-professor, Doctor Witherspoon, sent 
here to find out what I was doing at this place. 
The fact is” — he lowers his voice confidentially, 
still, however, speaking sufficiently loud for the sev- 
eral people to hear who are especially interested and 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED EOR. 


who are all attentively listening, — “ the fact is (I 
think I may tell you who are here, since the matter 
seems somehow to have gotten mixed up with this 
matter of your robbery) there has long existed in 
the minds of geological scholars a belief that there 
might possibly be found, somewhere in these moun- 
tains, specimens of a certain sort of mineral deposit 
(I will not trouble you with technical terms or par- 
ticular facts), which, although diligent search has 
for the last century been made, has never yet been 
discovered upon this continent. A short time since 
information was confided to me which pointed 
strongly to this immediate locality as the place 
where such specimens, if they existed in the New 
World at all, were likely to be found. I hurried 
hither to seek them, keeping my mission a secret, 
lest the Doctor Confucius Witherspoon of whom you 
have heard me speak, and who is equally with myself 
interested in this especial matter, should obtain 
knowledge of my whereabouts, and, following me 
hither, possibly get possession of the prize which, of 
all things, I myself was anxious to secure. Hence 
my mistrust of you two young men when I learned 

that you expected to connect yourself with Z 

College, of whose Faculty Doctor Witherspoon is a 
member. Morbidly fearful as I was in this matter, 
I believed that you were spies of his and that you 
would communicate to him the fact of my being 
here. I bless the Fates that I was mistaken. I 
believe that I this morning discovered a specimen 
of that of which I am in search, although it will be 
necessary for me to subject it to certain chemical 
tests before I can be quite certain. If it should 
turn out a! I hope and expect, then my professional 
reputation will indeed be established and the dis- 
comfiture of my haughty rival accomplished. You 
will understand, from all this, why I have thought it 
necessary to be so secret about the matter — and 
indeed the necessity of its still being kept private.” 

Folinsbee, hardly waiting for the Professor to con- 
clude his explanation (which, it seems to the young 
man, has lasted quite long enough), turning to the 
young ladies and laughing : “ Ha, ha, ha ! ladies, 
that was a capital joke of yours, I must say. Miss 
Meserole, you did make a capital robber. I hadn’t 
the faintest idea you weren’t the genuine article : I 
give you my word that I hadn’t.” 

Fanny, merrily : “No, Mr. Smythe, I am quite 
sure that you had not. And, thank you, I think I 
do make a capital robber. I am ‘such a tremendous 


big feller, you know,’ and I have such ‘horrid fin- 
gers ’ to seize my victims by the throat with.” 

Gertrude, in the same spirit: “Yes; and to 
wrench their rings from their fingers with.” 

Fan?iy, holding up her little hands for inspection : 
“Oh, they are ‘mere babes in my powerful grasp.’ 
Ha, ha, ha, Mr. Smythe ! The next time you are 
attacked by robbers, I advise you to find out 
whether they are Fine or Superfine, before you give 
up your valuables.” 

Folinsbee , very sheepishly : “ Well, you see — ah — it 
was so dark, you know — and you had a gun, you 
know — and — and ” — 

Harry, laughingly helping him out : “ And you 
were so thoroughly and ridiculously scared that 
you didn’t know what you did do, Folly.” They all 
laugh together, as though this point was pretty well 
established among them, Folinsbee himself being 
compelled to join. Then Harry turns to where the 
constable has been patiently waiting all this while. 
“ Mr. Meachem, I’m afraid your occupation is gone, 
so far as this occasion is concerned. There won’t 
be any arrest to-day. We — we found that we were 
mistaken in the person.” He bestows a comical 
look upon the Professor. 

Mr. Meachem , punctiliously : “ Do you mean, sir, 
that the complaint is withdrawn ? ” 

Harry: “Yes; and we are precious sorry we 
ever made it. Folly ” — turning to his friend — “ let 
me see that pocket-book of yours, will you ? ” Fol- 
insbee, in some wonder, takes out his newly-recov- 
ered pocket-book and gives it to him. Harry coolly 
extracts a bank-bill therefrom and hands it to the 
constable. “ Here, my friend here wishes to make 
you a present, in part consideration for your valuable 
services — which, however, we shall not need any 
longer, so we wish you a very good-day.” He bows 
the perfectly satisfied official out of the room. 

The Professor, now coming forward and speaking 
with all his old anxiety : “ I don’t know if you quite 
understood me, my good friends, but I shall be 
very grateful to you -r- very grateful indeed — if you 
will consider what I have said to you of my mission 
here as told you in confidence. Perhaps I ought not to 
have spoken of it to you so freely as I have, but — 
but I am sure that you will not betray me.” He 
regards them all beseechingly. 

Faimy, speaking up at once for herself and her 
female companions : “I am sure, Professor, that we 
shall not betray you. Gertrude and I, certainly 


MORE THAN THEY BARGAINED FOR. 


have no desire that this affair — any of it — should 
be known. Have we, Gertrude ? ” 

Gertrude, decidedly: “No, indeed! We shall not 
be likely to tell anybody. And I hope — I hope ” — 
She hesitates, looking at Harry and Folinsbee. 

Mrs. Okie , promptly taking up her sentence : 
“Yes; we hope that nobody else here will say any- 
thing about this painful affair, either.” She too 
looks meaningly at the boys. “ I should be very 
sorry to have anybody know of the foolish part my 
nieces have played in it.” 

Harry , bluntly : “ O, if you mean us, ladies — 
you may rely upon it that we sha’n’t say anything 
about it. We are quite as much ashamed of it as 
you are. Aren’t we, Folly ?” 

Folinsbee , with great readiness : “ Certainly ! That 
is, most assuredly we will not mention the matter, if 
the ladies do not wish it. I am quite ready to 
pledge my word not to do so.” 

Harry , to the landlord : “ And how is it with you, 


Mr. Muggs ? Will you vow eternal secrecy too ? ” 

Mr. Muggs, deliberately as ever and still jingling 
his everlasting coins: “Wall, I’d know. ’Twould be 
a purty good story t’ tell, take it all t’gether. But 
howsumdever, p’raps twouldn’t be jest th’ best thing 
in the world for the reppytation o’ th’ house t’ hev 
it git out round that there’s b’en a highway robb’ry 
committed near it : so ef you’ll all agree not to say any- 
thing about it, I d’know but / will.” 

Harry, to the company : “ Very well, then. Since 
we all of us seem to have our own reasons for keep- 
ing the matter secret, it is a bargain between us — is 
it? — that we will never divulge what has occurred.” 

Mrs. Okie, answering for them all : “ Yes ; it is a 
bargain.” 

Fanny, solemnly : “ And if anybody ever does tell of 
it, after this bargain ” — She pauses, and looks about 
her threateningly. 

Gertrude , smiling : “Why, they will get more than 
they bargained for.” 







D. LOTHROP & CO'S NEW BOOKS. 



Wild Flowers, and where They grow. By Amanda B. Harris. Sixty 

^lustrations by Miss L. B. Humphrey. This charming chronicle of the rambles, explorations, outings and merry- 
makings of a gay household, has been in the studio of Miss Humphrey for the past twelvemonth, and the ex- 
quisitely printed volume exhibits her best and most careful work for the year. 


8 vo, extra clo h, beautifully bound, gilt edges. . $3.00 

Turkey morocco, antique, gilt edges. . 6.00 


Blossoms by the Way. A Collection of choice Poems. Edited by Carrie 

Adelaide Cooke. This book contains many fine engravings, while a variety of beautiful borders, designed 
by Sweeny and printed in colors, ornaments 700 pages of text. 

Quarto, decorated cover, gilt edges $3.00 


Tennyson’s Pasotral Songs. These exquisite poems of the Poet Laureate 

of England have been carefully selected by one of our most ac«omplished editors. Beautifully illustrated and 
elegantly printed on the finest plate paper, it will be sought for as one of the most desirable gift-books of this season. 

8vo, bevelled and gilt, extra cloth, gilt edges. $2.50 

8vo, Turkey morocco, antique, gilt edges. 6.00 


D. LOTHKOP 6- CO.'S NEW BOOKS. 




Jesus Lover of my 

Soul. " It is the hymn of Charles 
Wesley, beginning with the line 
that gives title to the book, with 
designs by Robert Lewis, en- 
graved by Wm. J. Dana. Two 
of the full page engravings are 
records of actu. \ facts. One de- 
picts a mother nd her child 
found floating co a fragment of 
a wreck in the E lish Channel, 
the mother havi been heard 
by the sailors w r ho rescued her to sing, as they were approaching, th yords of the 
hymn. The other portrays a New England drummer boy during t»ie Civil War, 
found dead in the morning between the Union and the Rebel lines, who had been 
heard singing the hymn during the night.” Exquisitely illustrated. 

An elegant small 4to gift book, gilt edges $1.00 

America : Our National Hymn. By Rev. S. F. Smith, D.D., 

with memoir by George H. Whittemore. The volume contains eight full page engrav- 
ings after designs by Harry Fenn, Granville Perkins, Robert Lewis and Thomas Moran. 

4to, plain side and edges $2.00 

4to, full gilt side and edges $3.00 

Out of Darkness Into Light. By Mary A. Lathbury. 

Eight original poems of the inner life, illustrated by the author with eight masterly 
full page drawings, tw r enty exquisite vignettes, and a beautiful and suggestive title- 
page. Heavy plate paper, 4to, cloth, full gilt . . .... .$3.00 

i'he Old Oaken Bucket. Charmingly illustrated from original drawings 

by Miss L. B. Humphrey, engraved b} r Closson. Nothing finer or more artistic has ever been offered as a 
presentation volume for the holidays. Uni- 
form with the Ninety and Nine, Drifting, 
etc. 

Quarto, extra cloth, gilt edges . $1.50 

Calf, limp, embossed and gilt, laced 

binding 2.50 

Poets’ Homes. First series. 

/#< A collection of entertaining papers con 
ceming the homes, habits and work of 
prominent American authors, prepared by 
R. H. Stoddard and others. Fully illus- 
trated with views, interiors and portraits.” 

4to, cloth $2.00 

4to, full gilt ..... $2.50 


Poets’ Homes. Second se- 
ries. Chatty and very full accounts of 
Oliver Wendall Holmes, William Cullen 
Bryant, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Col. Paul 
H. Hayne, John Boyle O’Reilly, etc. 

Each fully illustrated. 

4to, cloth . . . . . $2.00 

4to, full gilt ..... 2.50 


The Ninety and Nine. 

Bv Elizabeth C. Clephane. Illustrated. 
Designs by Robert Lewis. Engraved by 
Wm. J . Dana. “ This poem which has gained 
a w r orld-wide notoriety, as one of the Moody 
and Sankey collection, deserves in our 
estimation, a much higher place among • 
poetical efforts than it occupies at present. 
Messrs. D. Lothrop & Co., seemingly aw r are 
of the fact, have bound the poem in a 
very attractive cover, with appropriate engravju* 


4to, cloth, full gilt 















\ 































o. 4 * r\ v.'VUVvXS^ * N>* * ‘ZOV/VdP ? ^ <*% J 

- c\ Sy * » * * > ^V v f t . o, ^v 0^ s 5 ' * ' %> 

/ho vP_ ,-V . ibMifcSj * «<* ♦«*US»A.° <Vv cl* ♦ ffiilCm . 


\/>G 




*^53 ^' "W" 

*♦ <?\ °WK : J* \ 

“' y <* '•••* A<^ ts *^T*’ A <\ 
.»i^Lr. ** c° •i^‘% °o ,** . • ‘ ' ” * % 




A vr>. : 

* A? ^ 

* .«- v VW**'* 

A° *vvT s - 

rv V o « a A V 




j 1 ) t Jgyfll ///^P *V 0 

• O > • “ 

A 1 °** * 

r o * 

*"° <«> °<u *"’ 

V » I • ®» c\ .0- »> - •' 

* *Ox at v 

;* h\ % <? : 

**- A V A v -V * 

** 4- ° 

O’ <*. *o 9 >* .6* "o. ** . . s 


£• % ^ ' *; 
^ ** VX" • r\ 



-* Cp '-^Vx a 

*< G* <k *♦, 

nV ... V '•** 

(*U c ♦ C> 

V • A^VvVv.w^ O 
* 




,• ’. 

• <S O * ISIS'S * 

y %. *••’* £° 

v *••«. «\ <<y ,»v», *> 

* /a^a.% V a® «yBfey. <*. .-? 

• *>% °wiw ; 4 >** 

4 *\ 'o.T* . 0 ^ 





0 ¥ o 0 " ® * 



s A . * 


% 

♦ «; 

4 Ar 

\ r % > ~ o * i ~ .{y _ 

# W ^ /s V 0 * 0 ^ 

^ 0° •'kWrJ.' °o .A . 



▼jr 0 * 

*: -^0^ : 

/ ^ ° x ' 0 *. 

& * 0 H 0 *' * * , , , * * A° 

K S V . \ ^ f • O . ^>V n> 5 ♦ • > 

^ A ' /jA^/L’e ^6 ,<3 *> 




# .. V ^*’ 0 f° *• ' 

t#>. ,•? 


o M 0 


^ ^ o 

* .o^ V *. .. 

o v;° *, 

G • cJ^vVv^^ . o 




* ° * 

; . *9 v, ; 

* r\ 

% ••'*’•’ / . . . , V* a 

- ^ A .'ififcfe'. % *4 V /. 

r v\ v 



• a°* . 

r o 



\0 7 ^ ° 

* +£. *„ 



% * 


U G v : - * 



* # i 


t w 



0+1 


a ^ : 

* v • 

4 /•V ^ * 




• ^ a* ** 

: v\ v • 


r+ + 



^ *0"°° A 



O av 

% ° J* *' 

'. *fe V* .- 
: >° ■% *. 


♦ A ’ ^ 

rv</ * 





^ 'OHO' *, 

'♦ <7 V <» 1 * °* 'c' \ 

• V*. A& 

° ^v 

* V> ^Qrv -> ^ij'»||^' o J.VA.. 

♦ <7 a a v vv 

* A°^ '~h 5 4 A 

-Cr .•»•, ^o a4> 

9 ,\i^W. ° W* '♦* 



*> 

'• ^ ^ *- 

s- V*v ; 

> • A '/ > . 

^ *7 ^ • 

i sr * 


• . 

O * 

* « , 1 • aJ- O' ’ o «. 0 

c\ aO ^ V * f # ° * O 

• >f>y A* ^ A , - * 


<J> * « » ° ,# O. *.,,• .,0 J 



: «fe V 


\ky * 


V * * * °- 



* .A <£. ° 

<?* 0 





• # 


\ r ^ ° • * 


A 

/ ^ ^ „ 



0 * * '-' ' 


<*> * 



o H 0 


° C^> ♦ 


» 



4 ^ . V / -9 

.‘1W, -t 


* ^c> ^2> *^.T S ' A 



\ W 




"o , » * ,0 


* A vP 

* <7 ^ 

- $y ^ 


" ,x - s -’. '-^0^ 


o. .0 


& * 



0 c 0 * ° ♦ r O 


o > 



<A 


oY 



0 v C 0 " 0 -» 


■ p « 
^ o' 


* ^5 ^ 

' *v 




> - ■■ - v 

v 7 V «» !. • °* o. 




• c7 ^ A ^ 

► x ^ ^ ♦ ts ^ « -CL V ciA ^ 

<V ^ ^ ^ 

V^ A> 0 N O ^ 

^ t o° •V^.I- °o 

-•- ^0^ ; 

° ^ °* ’*• vy/ra * 

<>, - o » o ’ ^ o^. * . , i • ’ / 

V v n ^ • o, b <0~ 



.0 ' s ” ' 


° ^ * 


> 0-7 ^ 

* a 0 ^ ^ cv **-^A--, 

.. V '•• °4. *•••’* 

a\v slV* 7 v p 'V * °>- CV * ( 

r£* A V ♦ rK\ A, cy 

' v<sy 'mW/0i\ 

. aV<Y 

♦ # ^ 



* A vP n 
4 ^ * 



• « s 4 A 





% ^ 


^ - 

*"V • 


* C$ 

* <S 

<L V V V6> >* 



c 0 ' . 

<1 

^ o 

° ^ ’ 

Aa <1,^ o 

av %'°"°^ ,.. V *•”•' f w ' ,.., V ^.* 




O N 0 








.« > A <!V>. •'o , * ^ o \D ^•'T, s ^ A <* 'o , K * * ^ 

4^ * i # ^ ^ Q> c 0 w O ^ *^Q ^ i # 5 ^ qV 0*0 + 

•»■ + Mr $ o**^mSi* -^.a< -' 



^ *»»■»• ■ ^ 

aP %s 

« Ta at * 

!°« ^ - 
° vV 

* 4> ■% 

A <V 

F i-^!*, ^ 




o 

A o. I • \Qrr, 

. fw V o * ^2sJ] + 0 ^ 

* » 1 1 • ’ ^° ^ 

A p » * o, (^ n v -*• •/■ y\ 

^ :Mrn% .• 


^0 





• A ^ 

* <7 ^ 

4 <J. V ^ -» 





* ^ ^ 



° ^5 ^ 

• ^ * 

> V v % *1°°' C* V 

* *p. 


° A 


A : 

* Y? 

.v r B * <0^ A ^ 

\V - t ^ ^ A» o W o A 

A t yvAiy,*- /»'J 0 _ O 

$ *J#?f{f?7?2* - ~7 


o **v. s* A <> 'o’.; - a 




WERT 

BOOKBINDING 
Grantville, Pa 


0 A<- O *.„•* a<5 J 'V 

.A %> 

*■ /V „« Ta A^ * 



VV. c,' 

t 


Mar — Apr 1986 

Wf're Quality Bound 


■!>■* 





'o ^ 

y o 0 V* ♦ ^ 
*c^5^v^ v? 


^ -o’.-;* a 



S ' O' -y- 


• • • •* </ % * 

V p JL • C' * 

v. A^ * rCCvsw fh & * 

'^C^. vX v ^. *° 
♦ ^ 


♦ <? «&. . 

4 •i-’W 

Or c° w °* ^o 

0 • c-C^Vv.tv^ - o 

% 
o 



" TVs* A 



A ♦» 

■’o v* : 



O 


^ # t ' • ^ '■<£ 




